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Fortune's Legacy
Maureen Child


Praise for Maureen Child:
“…Maureen Child is one of the foremost names in American romance.”
—Romantic Times
“Ms. Child’s fresh and appealing romance sparkles with pleasing characterization and impeccable timing.”
—Romantic Times
“The ever entertaining Maureen Child warms the cockles of our heart with this sensitive, touching romance….”
—Romantic Times
“Ms. Child creates a warm, appealing romance for our reading enjoyment….”
—Romantic Times
“Maureen Child sets sparks a’ flying…”
—Romantic Times
“…unique, endearing characters grab hold of your heartstrings and never let go….”
—Rendezvous

Don’t miss Signature Select’s exciting series:
The Fortunes of Texas: Reunion
Get swept up in twelve new stories from your favorite family!
COWBOY AT MIDNIGHT by Ann Major
A BABY CHANGES EVERYTHING by Marie Ferrarella
IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW by Peggy Moreland
LONE STAR RANCHER by Laurie Paige
THE GOOD DOCTOR by Karen Rose Smith
THE DEBUTANTE by Elizabeth Bevarly
KEEPING HER SAFE by Myrna Mackenzie
THE LAW OF ATTRACTION by Kristi Gold
ONCE A REBEL by Sheri WhiteFeather
MILITARY MAN by Marie Ferrarella
FORTUNE’S LEGACY by Maureen Child
THE RECKONING by Christie Ridgway



Fortune’s Legacy
Maureen Child

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
It’s always exciting being asked to participate in a continuity series for Harlequin/Silhouette. And being a part of THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series is about as good as it gets.
My story, Fortune’s Legacy, centers on Kyra Fortune and her boss—the man who makes her life miserable—Garrett Wolff. Garrett and Kyra were quite the challenge. Two more hardheaded people I’ve never met. Neither of them knows the meaning of the word compromise and when their strong personalities collide, it becomes something amazing.
The two of them completely won me over and I hope you’ll feel the same.
I love to hear from readers, so drop by my Web site at www.maureenchild.com and send me an e-mail!
Love,
Maureen Child
To the readers of category romance.
You are the reason we write.
The reason we dream.
Thank you all.

Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Bonus Features

One
“H enry Stevens got that promotion, damn it.” Kyra Fortune wanted to kick something. Hard. But she wasn’t willing to damage a brand-new pair of designer heels, so she squelched the urge.
“I heard,” her assistant said glumly.
Kyra turned around to face the other woman in her office. Tracy Hudson’s pixielike features were drawn into a blend of sympathy and disappointment.
“What exactly did you hear?” Kyra asked, knowing full well that the grapevine in Voltage Energy Company was bound to have complete details by now. And all she really knew was that she’d been passed over for promotion.
Again.
True, in the years she’d been at Voltage, she’d steadily climbed the corporate ladder to associate VP in the expansion division. But it wasn’t fast enough for her. Her own annual review was still months away and she knew that if promotions were being made now, by the time it was her turn, there wouldn’t be a slot left to give to her. No matter what she did to earn it.
Tracy set her memo pad down on her lap, leaned forward and got into some serious dirt dishing. “Mr. Stevens’s assistant, Jolie, told Pam in accounting, who told Jacob in the mail room who just told me ten minutes ago….”
In spite of the fury still tickling her insides, Kyra was forced to admire the flow of information. If the top dogs in this company thought they could keep a secret, they really ought to step out of their ivory towers once in a while. “Told you what?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
“Goes without saying,” Kyra pointed out and, reaching down, snatched up a silver-plated letter opener. Bouncing the blade end of the thing against her palm, she waited.
“Apparently Mr. Wolff told Mr. Stevens that his work was ‘exemplary’ and—”
“Exemplary?” Kyra repeated, stunned to her toes. “The man can’t find the executive bathroom without a guide.”
Tracy’s lips twitched, then flattened out again. “He also said that Mr. Stevens had a promising future here and—”
“God,” Kyra muttered, tossing the letter opener onto her desk. “There’s more?”
“Mr. Wolff gave him the corner office on twenty-six.”
An unpleasant little squeaky noise escaped Kyra’s throat. “Twenty-six? The office with the blue walls and the built-in bookcases?”
“The very one.”
Yes. The very one Kyra had been mentally redecorating for the last month. Ever since Myrna Edgington had given up that office to stay at home with her kids. Kyra couldn’t quite understand the former executive’s motivation, but she herself had been hoping to take over Myrna’s old office. It was so Kyra. It was perfect. And damn it, she’d earned it.
She’d been so positive that no one would be able to deny the good work she’d been doing for the company.
Yet it appeared that while she waited months for her shot at another notch up the ladder of success, other people were stepping on her head on the way to the top. Didn’t seem to matter how hard she worked, how many clients she brought into the fold at Voltage. All that counted around here was if Garrett Wolff approved of you or not.
And apparently, Kyra thought with a disgusted sigh, he didn’t approve of her.
Not exactly a news flash.
Her immediate supervisor was a tall, gorgeous hunk of mean. Garrett never took her seriously. He always looked at her as if he half expected her to show up in tennis whites and serve a backhand across the board-room table. All because her last name was Fortune.
She glanced around her office, taking in the softly soothing pale-lavender walls, the carefully chosen art sprinkled around the room, and the comfortable, yet businesslike chairs. She’d made a place for herself here. Put her own personal stamp on what would have been a distinctly impersonal junior executive’s office.
But she wanted more.
She couldn’t help it. That was just who she was. She knew darn well that some people considered her spoiled. But Kyra didn’t think of herself like that. She wasn’t spoiled. She was…appreciated.
And why shouldn’t she be? she argued silently. She worked hard. She didn’t trade on her family name. She came in early and went home late. She could have gone to work for Fortune TX, Ltd. when she left college. But she hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted anyone to be able to stand back and accuse her of being successful simply because she was a Fortune.
She’d come to Voltage specifically to avoid any whispers of nepotism. And it had worked. In fact, she’d had to work even harder here to prove herself than anyone else. As far as she could see, at Voltage, her family name almost worked against her. Damn it, she’d earned every step she’d taken up the corporate ladder, and she wouldn’t stop until she reached the top.
No matter how hard her arch nemesis, Garrett Wolff, tried to prevent her from succeeding.
Just thinking about the man could make Kyra grind her teeth in frustration. Every time she was around him, her skin hummed and her temper flared. He was a match to her stick of dynamite.
To hide her feelings, she turned away from Tracy’s too-knowing gaze and stared out the window.
The spring sky was the kind of blue you only found in Red Rock, Texas—as bright and sharp a color as the bluebonnets that dotted every meadow in the state. A few high, white clouds scudded across the wide expanse of sky and tossed shadows onto the buildings below. Just outside San Antonio, but officially within the city limits, Kyra thought wryly, the business park had all the charm of a maximum security prison.
The buildings were tall and bland. The landscaping consisted of tiny patches of grass with the occasional baby tree, boasting a branch and a half each, plopped down in the center of said patch. No flowers brightened the sterile environment. Actually, there was no color at all, except for the postage stamp-size splotches of green. The windows in the buildings were mirrored, so that a view only gained you a picture of another building from a different angle.
It would have helped if she’d been able to open up one of her windows and actually feel some real Texas air sweeping in. But they were all sealed tightly, with the gentle hum of an air conditioner blowing recycled air through the rooms, mimicking the wind.
And she wouldn’t even mind the ugly view or the sameness that hung over the ugly business park—if her view had been from the corner office on twenty-six.
This was all Garrett Wolff’s fault.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him, as she did every morning. Mr. Tall, Blond and Oblivious. He looked like a Nordic god and had all the charm of one as well. He rarely looked at Kyra, and when he did, she sensed his disapproval.
Well, too bad.
If he thought for one minute that she was going to be swayed by this last, completely illogical decision of his, he had another think coming. Kyra Fortune never gave up. Never quit.
“There’s still one more promotion to be filled,” Tracy stated, in a determinedly cheerful tone.
“True,” Kyra agreed with a sigh. “But I’m not up for review again until October.” She turned around, pulled out her high-backed, leather desk chair and plopped down onto it. Leaning back, she thought of all the things she’d like to say to Garrett Wolff.
She’d like to stomp down to the elevator, ride it to the top, charge past his überefficient and mildly terrifying administrative assistant, Carol Summerhill, then personally flatten him with a few pithy, well-chosen insults.
But she wouldn’t.
Because to advance at Voltage, she needed to impress, not threaten, Garrett Wolff.
Damn it.
“Kyra?”
She ran the tips of her manicured nails across that letter opener in an idle, stroking motion.
Tracy snapped her fingers a few times.
Jolted out of her thoughts, Kyra smiled at her friend. “Sorry. Daydreaming.”
Tracy’s dark brown eyes sparkled with humor. “And in this daydream, did you get away with arranging an ‘accident’ for Mr. Wolff?”
This is why she worked so well with Tracy. Sarcasm came in handy and a sense of humor was essential. “Not only got away with it,” she said, leaning forward and grinning with real relish, “I took over his job and personally held the very tasteful memorial in his honor.”
“Ooh,” Tracy said, smiling. “Nice touch.”
“I thought so.” Kyra straightened up in her chair, checked her desk calendar with a quick glance, then shifted her gaze to Tracy. “Anyway, promotions, daydreams and wayward wishes aside, we still need to get some business done.”
“Right.” Tracy flipped open her memo pad, clicked her pen and got ready.
“Okay, then.” Kyra pulled a file folder off the stack at her right and said, “Let’s get started with the Hartsfield letter. We need to get the property rights tied up before Fortune TX, Ltd. steps in and claims them.”
“You’re always one step ahead, Boss,” Tracy said, nodding in approval.
“It’s the only way,” Kyra agreed, and tried to push thoughts of Garrett Wolff to the back of her brain.
At least for the moment.

Garrett couldn’t push thoughts of Kyra aside today. Not when his superiors were making such a pitch for him to promote the damn woman.
As senior VP of the expansion division, he should be able to make these calls himself. But he knew better than most just how slippery the slopes were in corporate America.
He’d been at Voltage since leaving college, and he’d eventually worked himself into a position of power. And yet he was being coerced into promoting a woman he didn’t feel was ready for the job.
All because of her name.
Disgusted, Garrett stood up, walked across the plush, dark blue carpet toward a credenza on the far wall. Inside the gleaming wood cabinet sat a coffeemaker. He reached for a heavy porcelain mug and poured himself a cup. Carrying the steaming brew with him, he stalked back to his desk and reread the memo that had arrived only an hour before.
Wolff—
See to a review of Kyra Fortune, then arrange her promotion. As discussed, make no mention of her family ties, but assure Ms. Fortune that her talents are appreciated and valued. Make this happen.
Henderson
Miles Henderson. CEO of Voltage Energy Company. A man with a mission. Garrett suspected Miles was determined to push through a merger with Fortune TX, Ltd. and he wanted Kyra to give him leverage. The board had decided in an emergency meeting the night before that Kyra, by virtue of being a Fortune, would be just the edge they needed when dealing with Fortune TX, Ltd.
Garrett set his coffee cup down on his uncluttered, ebony desktop and then leaned back in his chair. Damned if a part of him didn’t almost feel sorry for the woman. She’d never traded on her name. Never made an issue of it at all.
If she got wind of the truth behind this promotion… Hell, he wasn’t sure what she’d do.
His intercom buzzed. “Yes?”
“Ms. Fortune is here, sir.”
“Fine, Carol. Send her in.”
He stood up behind his desk, buttoned his suit jacket and prepared to lie his ass off.
She stepped into the room, then closed the door behind her. Walking across his office, she moved with an innate sense of grace, hips swaying, a cautious smile on her face. She was tall—about five foot nine—with a slender build and platinum-blond hair a few shades lighter than his own. Her hair was short and sort of fringed, framing her face in feathery layers that made her look a lot softer than he knew her to be. Her blue-green eyes were wary as she stepped up to his desk and held out her hand.
“Mr. Wolff.”
He took her hand in his and disregarded the flash of something hot and disconcerting that swept through him. This kind of thing was always happening if Kyra got too near—the perfect reason for keeping her at a distance. Not only wasn’t she anywhere near his type, but an office affair could only get messy.
He saw a spurt of recognition pass across her eyes and disappear again just as quickly.
“Please, sit down.” He waved a hand at the chair closest to her.
She did, but perched on the edge of the black leather seat, hands folded on her knees. Before he could speak, she started.
“If this is about my idea for the expansion division—”
“It’s not.” He cut her off, not wanting to discuss her plan.
His temper spiked as he remembered all of the half-baked ideas she’d come up with over the last year. Granted, one or two of them weren’t bad. But she always had to push the envelope. Always had to go for just one more step.
And while a part of him admired her for the guts it took to rock the boat, a bigger part wanted to tell her that irritating people was not the fast track to success.
But then, he thought wryly, since the higher-ups had decided to promote her anyway…
She fidgeted in her chair, and Garrett brought his mind back to the task at hand. “According to your employee records, you’re not due for another review until October, is that right?”
“Yeeessss.” One word. At least five syllables.
He sensed her nervousness and did nothing to ease it. Her perfume, a subtle scent of flowers and citrus, drifted lazily to him and he frowned to himself as he tried to ignore it. Every time he saw her, that scent reached out for him, and he almost wondered if she used the stuff as some sort of feminine weapon. If so, it was a damn effective one.
Reaching for a manila file folder to his right, he opened it and laid it on his desk. Deliberately, he scanned the contents, though he’d already read the information it contained. She was nervous, and damned if some small part of him wasn’t enjoying it. So many of the people in this company either admired her or were intimidated by her that he relished the chance to put her on edge a little.
She inched closer to the desk and strained to read her employee file upside down.
“If this is about the meeting with the Hartsfield people, I can assure you that I have the situation in hand,” she said, shifting her gaze to him, and then back to the file, still open on his desk.
When he closed it, he saw the flash of irritation in her eyes, and enjoyed that, too.
“It’s not.”
“Then what?”
He leaned back in his chair, propped his elbows on the arms and steepled his fingertips together as he studied her. She was still nervous, but a flash of something mutinous darted through her eyes.
“I called you in here to let you know that you’re going to be reviewed early next week.”
Her blue-green eyes narrowed in suspicion. “My next review isn’t due until October. Why now?”
He sat up, folded his arms atop the closed file and watched her. “I don’t believe I’m required to give you a reason.”
Kyra nodded shortly and felt her temper spike. The man was so calm, so controlled, she wanted to tear out her hair. There was something going on here, and she didn’t have a clue what it was. Reviewed early meant one of two things: either she was going to be promoted—or fired.
Watching Garrett Wolff’s closed expression didn’t really give her any hints as to which way the wind was blowing on that score. But she had a pretty good idea where he would stand on the issue.
His pale blue eyes were steady on her and completely unreadable. It was as if that brief, electrical spark that had flashed between them hadn’t even happened. Cold, she thought. He was cold, right down to the bone.
Too bad he looked so darn good. Garrett Wolff had blond hair that looked both too long and too tempting. He wore elegantly cut suits with the air of a pirate, and the swagger in his step was always just enough to make a woman either want to drool or kick him.
He was a presence at Voltage.
The bigwigs liked him. Trusted him.
Listened to him.
And he hated her.
She’d known that for months. Ever since she’d spoken up during a marketing meeting and said what everyone else had been thinking: that Garrett’s ideas were outdated and too conservative.
Okay, she thought now, maybe not the best way to make a good impression on your boss. But she hadn’t been trying to piss him off. Just make him see that she had good things to offer. That if given a chance, she could make a difference at Voltage.
Now it looked as though all she’d done was earn the enmity of the one person who could make or break her career.
Swell.
Well then, if she was already sinking, she might as well go for broke.
“Look, I know you don’t like me—”
He cut her off. “This isn’t personal, Ms. Fortune.”
“The hell it isn’t,” she snapped, surging to her feet as the tidal wave of anger carried her along in its wake. She was in this too deep now to start hedging her words or watching her step. Might as well be hanged for a lion as a lamb.
“Every time I make a suggestion for this company or take a stand against doing things the traditional way, you shoot me down.”
He stood up, too, and towered over her. Not easy, since she was by no means a tiny little thing. It irritated her, having to tilt her head back to glare at him, but she managed.
“You don’t make ‘suggestions,’ Kyra,” he countered, through gritted teeth. “You torpedo other people’s ideas and then try to ram your own through, with all the tact and sensitivity of a rampaging army.”
“Is there something wrong with wanting to succeed?” She felt the temper bubbling inside her. Knew she should dial it down. Knew she should get a grip. But she just couldn’t.
“Not as long as you don’t eviscerate those who don’t agree with you,” he retorted, his eyes snapping now with a temper to match her own.
“You just don’t want anyone rocking the boat,” she challenged, planting her hands on the edge of his pristine desk and leaning toward him.
“And you,” he declared, doing a little leaning of his own, “don’t have the patience to let things develop naturally.”
“What good is patience?” Kyra lifted one hand and pushed back a fringe of hair that had drifted into her left eye. “While we’re being patient, Fortune TX, Ltd. will sweep in and hustle off our major clients.”
“They haven’t yet,” he reminded her.
“That’s not to say they won’t.” Kyra stared him straight in the eye, unwilling now to back down from the precipice where her temper had carried her. “At Fortune, they’re not afraid to take chances. To try something new. To foster their employees’ imaginations.”
“Then maybe you’re working for the wrong company, Ms. Fortune.”
She hissed in a breath. Ooh, that one hurt.
She pushed up from the desk. Folding her arms across her breasts, she concentrated for a full minute on inhaling and exhaling. She counted to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty.
Didn’t work.
Still furious.
“Maybe you don’t know this about me, Mr. Wolff, so let me be the first to tell you. I don’t trade on my family name. It’s for exactly that reason that I came to work for Voltage. I wanted to make it on my own talents. I’ve worked hard to earn my position here. And I’ll work even harder until I have your job.”
He snorted a derisive laugh that had Kyra’s hackles lifting.
“Is that a threat, Ms. Fortune?”
“That’s a promise, Mr. Wolff.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
A tiny, tiny voice in the back of Kyra’s brain was screeching, telling her that she was being an idiot. That she was risking everything she’d worked for by pissing off her boss.
But, she thought as she deliberately squashed that shrieking voice, at this point what did she have to lose? He already didn’t like her. Maybe if he knew she was willing to stand up to him and fight for respect, he would, at least, admire her.
After several long seconds of silence ticked past, Kyra spoke again. “This review. You’ll be doing it?”
He smiled again. “Yes.”
A cold chill snaked along her spine. “I won’t make it easy on you.”
“What?”
“I know you want me fired.”
He shook his head. “Contrary to what you believe, you don’t actually know everything.” He paused. “But the fact that you always act as if you do is irritating to some.”
She squirmed uncomfortably.
“And I will say,” he continued, “that maybe, Kyra, you’ve finally irritated the wrong people.”
Another chill caught her and she stiffened. Lifting her chin high and squaring her shoulders, she nodded briskly. “Think whatever you want to think, Mr. Wolff. But I’m damn good at my job. And my record will speak for itself.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” he asked, and slowly sat down in his chair again. Picking up her employee file, he tucked it away in one of his desk drawers, then lifted his gaze to hers. “That’s all for now. You can get back to work.”
She opened her mouth to say something more, but shut it again almost instantly. She’d already said way too much. And knowing Garrett Wolff, he wouldn’t forget a word of it.

Two
K yra was still shaking as she left Garrett’s office. She deliberately closed the door gently, wanting to kick herself for losing her temper. Hadn’t she been told most of her life that her temper would only get her into trouble?
And for the most part, she reminded herself, she’d conquered that instinctive flash of anger that had prompted her into saying something she shouldn’t too many times.
But that man, she thought grimly, could make a saint come storming out of heaven wielding thunderbolts.
“Are you all right, Ms. Fortune?”
Kyra’s gaze snapped to Carol Summerhill, sitting at her desk. Short, with a lush figure, cropped, dark curly hair and a simpering smile that irritated everyone around her, with the exception of Garrett. Carol wouldn’t see forty again, but she hid the signs of her age with perfectly applied makeup. And she guarded her boss’s office with the zeal of a rabid dog.
“I’m just fine,” Kyra managed to say through gritted teeth. “Thanks.”
“I only wondered,” Carol said slyly, “because you look a little…ill.”
Only because that’s how she was feeling. Along with terrified, furious and worried. But she’d be damned if she’d let Carol know that.
“No,” she managed to answer, “I’m fine. Just a little warm. But thanks for your concern.” Which was, Kyra knew, as much a lie as the answer she’d just given the woman.
Sucking in a gulp of air, she tried to steady the nerves jumping in the pit of her stomach. Then she forced a smile she didn’t feel, and headed past Carol’s desk. No way was she going to let the woman know just how shaken she really was.
The office door behind her opened abruptly, and Kyra spun around to face Garrett again.
“Still here, Ms. Fortune?” he inquired wryly, one eyebrow lifted into a high arch.
“Just leaving,” she assured him.
“Good.” Dismissing her, he turned to his assistant. “Carol, come inside and bring your pad.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, leaping to her feet like a dolphin breaching the surface of a pool to grab at a tasty fish.
The woman had absolutely no dignity, Kyra thought as she watched Garrett disappear back into the inner sanctum. She ground her teeth as Carol paused, gave her a slow smile and shut herself in their boss’s office.
Kyra glared at the closed door and did the only thing she could in that situation. She stuck out her tongue, then left as quickly as possible.

The building was quiet, most of the employees having left for home long before. From down the hall came the soft drone of a vacuum cleaner, and outside the bank of windows behind Kyra’s desk, rain spattered against the glass.
Oblivious to the faint background sounds, Kyra bent over the open file on her cluttered desktop. Frowning in concentration, she flipped through the pages of the Hartsfield report, making notations on the pad at her right. With no distractions, no interruptions, she’d have the presentation ready by morning.
If Garrett Wolff was really going to fire her, it wouldn’t be because he’d found fault with her work. A voice in the back of her mind muttered darkly about men with too much power. About the unfairness of it all. About how, despite how hard she tried, she would never really be good enough.
She swallowed and gripped her pen tightly in her fist. Whispers of self-doubt fluttered through her brain, but that was nothing new. Most of her life she’d covered up her fears with bravado. To the outside world, Kyra was a woman who knew exactly where she was going and just how to get there.
But inside, she was still the youngest child of a drunk. Unsure whom to trust. Unsure of her own abilities. Unsure of every damn thing.
“Okay,” she said softly, as she mentally smoothed the knot of nerves in the pit of her stomach. “That’s enough of that.”
“Talking to yourself is not a good sign, you know.”
Kyra jumped in her chair, slapped one hand to her chest and took a deep breath in an effort to nudge her heart down out of her throat. Her pulse beat wildly as her gaze shot to the man in the open doorway of her office.
Garrett Wolff stood there watching her. Well, he was leaning more than standing. One shoulder was braced against the doorjamb, one foot crossed over the other. His arms were folded across his chest and his sharp gaze was fixed on her. God knew how long he’d been there.
“Let me guess,” she snapped, covering her own embarrassment with the familiar snarl of anger. “Instead of firing me, you decided to just scare me to death and save on the paperwork.”
He grinned, and the solid punch of it raced across the room and hit Kyra like a bolt of something hot and dangerous.
Oh, so not good.
She’d known the man for eight years, during which time he’d irritated her, annoyed her and just plain pissed her off. But she’d never, ever felt a flash of desire for him. Okay, sure, she’d noticed how gorgeous he was.
Heck, she’d have had to be blind to have missed that.
But noticing and noticing were two different things.
Shaking his head, he unfolded his arms and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “It’s eleven o’clock at night, Ms. Fortune. Why are you still here?”
Uncomfortable under that cool, steady stare, she shifted a little in her seat. She’d thought she was alone in the building. Well, except for the cleaning crew and the security guards.
She often stayed late at night, to catch up on work, to get a jump on the next day’s tasks. She liked the quiet. Probably a holdover from living in a too-crowded house when she was a kid. Just remembering her father’s sudden, unpredictable shouting rages could make her long for peace and quiet. But it was even more than that.
She liked knowing that she was alone and for a few hours could drop the pretense of always being in charge. Kyra knew darn well that most of her co-workers considered her an arrogant know-it-all.
Which would have been funny if it didn’t bother her so much. God, she wished she were a know-it-all. School had never come easy to her. She’d always had to study twice as hard as anyone else to get the grades that had assured her of four years at Texas A&M.
And she’d worked even harder here at Voltage. Staring at Garrett now, though, Kyra wondered if all of her hard work had been for nothing. Frustrating to know that no matter how good her job performance, she could lose everything she’d been working toward because one man didn’t like her.
Well, she wouldn’t make it easy on him.
He was watching her now, still waiting for an answer to his question. “I’m just working out a few details in the Hartsfield plan.”
One of his brows lifted. “Then you’ve managed to sign them on with Voltage?”
“Not yet,” she admitted, wishing she could say yes. “But soon.”
He nodded and straightened up, taking one or two steps into her office. “Good. But you don’t have to work twenty-four hours a day, you know. Voltage really doesn’t expect that of its employees.”
It was strange, having him here in her office. As far as she could remember, this was his first visit. And since she knew full well that her career was currently dangling by a thread, she didn’t count this as a social call.
Which meant he had another reason altogether for dropping by in the middle of the night.
She only wished she knew what it was.
“Really?” she countered, tilting her head to one side and studying him as he walked the perimeter of her office. “Then why are you still here?”
“Touché.” He walked slowly around the room, examining the paintings on the wall, checking out the crystal vase of yellow roses on the credenza, and then finally stopping beside her desk.
He was too close for comfort. Kyra pushed her chair back from her desk so that she could give herself an extra foot or so of space and have an unobstructed view of the man.
His gaze locked on the night beyond the rain-spattered windows. Kyra waited, stubbornly refusing to be the first one to break the silence that seemed to stretch tautly between them. At last she was rewarded.
He turned his head to look at her. “Why are you so driven?”
She blinked, surprised not only by the question, but by the genuine curiosity she heard in his deep voice. There were, of course, lots of answers to the query, none of which she was interested in sharing with her boss.
Especially a boss who made no secret of the fact that he didn’t much like her. But she had to say something.
“Why is it when a woman works hard, she’s driven. When a man does the same thing, he’s just conscientious?”
The smile that curved his lips suddenly was gone almost before it was born, but in that instant something warm and liquid rushed through Kyra, despite her efforts to stop it.
“Good point,” he acknowledged. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”
“Why do you care about the answer?”
“Call it professional curiosity,” he said with a slight shrug. “I see a young woman who should be out having a good time, and instead, she stays locked up in her office nearly every night.”
“And you know this how?”
His lips twitched. “I’m the boss. I’m supposed to know these things.”
He was keeping track of her? She didn’t know what to think about that. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
“I’d like to point out,” she said cautiously, “that you’re here in the middle of the night, too.”
“Yeah,” he said, turning his gaze back to the windows, When he continued, his voice was lower, more thoughtful. “But spending my nights in this building wasn’t something I planned.”
“So go home.”
He turned his head to look at her again, and Kyra saw a half smile flash across his face before it disappeared again. “Good idea. How about we both go?”
He was being nice.
Why?
That swirl of emotion started in the bottom of her stomach again. Surprise flickered through her as she realized she was actually enjoying the sensation. There was something very…intimate about being here in the office alone with him. With the stormy night crouched outside and only a puddle of light from the lamp on her desk illuminating the room, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.
His presence seemed to make the room shrink in size. The walls seemed to close in around them. The tap of rain against the windowpanes was a steady, almost musical accompaniment to the silence stretching between them. She looked into his blue eyes and— Kyra caught herself and shook her head.
If Garrett was being nice, it was only to lull her into complacency before putting her head on the chopping block.
“I’m just going to finish up this last report,” she said, “and then—”
“Mr. Wolff?”
They both looked toward the doorway. Carol Summerhill stood there, watching them in obvious disapproval. Her eyes were narrowed and her lips were nothing more than a flat, grim line.
Kyra suddenly felt like a cheating wife caught sneaking out of a cheap motel. Stupid, she knew. But the look on Carol’s face was that of a jealous woman. Weird.
Garrett, though, seemed more annoyed at the interruption than anything else. “Yes, Carol?”
The woman shifted her gaze from Kyra to their boss. “I only wanted to remind you that you have a teleconference at six in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
His tone, if not the words themselves, were dismissive, but Carol ignored both. “I’ll walk out with you if you like.”
Geez, Kyra thought. Had the woman brought rose petals to toss down in front of him, too?
Garrett stiffened. “No, thanks. You go ahead.”
“Oh.”
Carol looked stupefied, as if she couldn’t quite believe he’d chosen to remain and talk to Kyra rather than leave with her. Well, heck. Kyra was pretty surprised at that herself.
“I have a few things I need to discuss with Ms. Fortune,” Garrett said.
“I see.” Clearly, Carol didn’t see and wasn’t at all happy about it, either. But left with no other choice, she backed out and said, “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”
“Fine.”
When they were alone again, Kyra chanced a look at Garrett. And she had to ask. “Do you really enjoy all the hero worship?”
He frowned at her. “What?”
She waved one hand at the empty doorway, then stood up to face him, feeling more in charge on her feet. “Carol. Your guard dog.”
He laughed shortly and the sound surprised Kyra. But the real surprise was suddenly realizing that he was even better-looking when he smiled.
Oh dear God.
Stop noticing these things, she told herself.
Shaking his head, he strolled slowly around her desk, idly lifting first her brass nameplate, then a framed picture of her and her brothers and sister. He held the photo and studied it as he spoke. “Carol’s been with me for ten years and she’s…territorial.”
“Yeah,” Kyra said. “Like a Doberman.”
“What do you mean?” Still holding the photo, he shot her a glance.
“Only that it’s probably easier to get an audience with the Pope than it is to get in and see you.”
Frowning slightly, he said, “I didn’t realize.”
Maybe he really didn’t know how well Carol protected him from the people who worked for him. Maybe he was totally unaware that his assistant practically threw herself in front of his door to keep the unwashed at bay. But if he didn’t know, he darn well should.
“You ought to get out more, General,” Kyra told him. “Visit with the troops.”
Thoughtfully, he nodded. “Maybe you’re right.” Then he shifted his gaze back to the picture he still held. “Your family?”
“Yes.” She didn’t have to look at the photo to know what he was seeing. A few months ago she and her siblings had gotten together for lunch, and Kyra had asked a waiter to take their picture. It wasn’t often anymore that she, Susan, Vincent and Daniel were in the same place at the same time. Though they hadn’t exactly been close when they were kids, in the last few years they’d all done some reaching out.
And to be honest, it was Kyra who’d had to do the most reaching. As the youngest of the four, she’d been the most removed from everyone’s lives. And thanks to Vincent running interference between her and her father, she had never really suffered the man’s rages as her brothers and sister had.
In the last few months, things had really changed for Leonard Fortune’s kids, too. Susan, Daniel and even Vincent had found love and happiness. They all felt a sense of peace they’d never had before.
God knew, they’d all earned it. Growing up as the children of Leonard Fortune hadn’t exactly been a game plan for success.
As the youngest, Kyra had been spoiled by her mother and protected from her father’s drunken rages by Vincent’s stubborn determination. Kyra’d been spared most of the misery her siblings had survived. But they were all grown up now. Succeeding on their own terms. Making lives for themselves, despite their father. Despite everything.
And Kyra was determined to do no less than her brothers and sister had done. She had every intention of making a success of her career and then somehow finding the love she’d always dreamed about.
Garrett continued to assess the photo. “Big family.”
“Four kids is a lot, I guess.”
“I’m an only child,” he said, and set the frame gingerly down on her desk, turning it back toward her with the tip of one finger.
“Must have been…quiet,” she said, not sure what he was getting at. Not sure why he was still here, in her office, talking to her as if they were old friends. Or lovers.
Her brain fizzled at the thought and she was forced to remind herself again that noticing Garrett Wolff as anything other than her boss was a one-way ticket to trouble.
He shoved both hands into his pockets. “Too quiet, sometimes.”
Now what did that mean?
As if suddenly realizing he’d said too much, he pulled his hands from his pockets, checked his watch and said, “I’m going home. I suggest you do the same, Ms. Fortune. The work will still be here tomorrow.”
Unable to help herself, she said, “Yes. But will I?”
He studied her for a long minute and shook his head. “Your review’s not till next week, remember? And besides, why are you so sure you’re going to be fired?”
She swallowed hard. “Because I know what you think of me.”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “You can’t possibly know everything, Ms. Fortune. But the fact that you always act as if you do can be irritating.”
Instinctively, she tried to argue that point. “I don’t—”
“Who knows?” he added. “Maybe this time you really have irritated the wrong people.”
Kyra felt cold right down to the bone. Gone was the Mr. Nice Guy, chitchatting at night with one of the lesser beings. And in his place was the boss she’d come to know so well. Mr. Ice.
“I won’t make it easy on you,” she said, feeling it was only fair to warn the man that she wouldn’t give up without a fight.
“Ms. Fortune,” he said, “you never do anything the easy way.”

Three
T wo days later, Garrett was beginning to see what Kyra was talking about.
Walking through the expansion division—hell, his division, he’d already noticed people staring at him as if he were an apparition. Some looked nervous, as if he were there to lop off heads or personally hand out pink slips. Others were simply too stunned to return a simple greeting when he smiled and said good morning. And a couple of people paid no attention to him at all, leaving him to wonder if they even knew who the hell he was.
Irritation bubbled inside him. Damn it, he hated to admit that Kyra Fortune was right. But now that he was actually noticing what was going on outside the walls of his own office, he was forced to. Carol had always been so efficient, so on top of everything, he’d never really noticed how much of his world she ran.
Garrett was annoyed to have to acknowledge that Kyra Fortune had seen something he’d missed.
Muted sunlight streamed through the tinted windows surrounding the busy floor. At tiny cubicles and paper-cluttered desks, people hunched over their work or answered the ringing phones. Piped-in music battled for precedence over the sounds of people talking and typing.
And as he walked through it all, he realized he was just another distraction.
Damn it, he had been locked away too long. He’d lost touch with his team.
Oh, he met with a select few once a week, but the men and women who manned the glass cubicles sprawled across the steel-gray carpet were strangers to him. And he couldn’t understand how he’d let that happen.
He hadn’t set out to be alone in an ivory tower. But that was exactly where he was.
Now all he had to do was figure out how to change things.

“C’mon, Kyra, let it go for awhile. Relax. Have a drink. Dance.”
Kyra sighed, picked up her margarita and looked over the rim of the glass at her friend, Isabella Sanchez. Isa’s long, dark hair was a riot of curls around her pretty face. Her dark brown eyes were big and expressive, and her full mouth was turned up in a teasing smile.
But tonight not even her best friend could wangle an answering smile out of Kyra. “I’m just not in the mood, Isa. I shouldn’t have come out tonight. I’m only going to be a supreme downer.” She shook her head, set her glass on the scarred tabletop and leaned back in her chair.
“Girl, you’re letting him win.”
“He’s going to win anyway,” Kyra muttered, straightening up at the mere reference to Garrett Wolff. She’d already told Isa about the confrontation with her boss two days ago. And because she was a great friend, she’d promptly insisted on taking Kyra out to unwind.
Too bad it wasn’t working.
Not even the atmosphere of Rio’s, an upscale bar and restaurant, was enough to lift Kyra’s black mood. All around them people sat at round tables dotting the gleaming wood floor. Iron wall sconces shone with soft light, as did the cream-colored glass balls that hung on silver chains draped from beams in the ceiling.
Cocktail waitresses in black shorts and yellow T-shirts dipped and swayed as they moved through the crowd, carrying loaded trays of drinks and nachos. In the far corner a country and western band swung into a fast-tempo tune that had couples streaming toward the large square dance floor.
Against one wall a long, intricately carved mahogany bar was manned by three bartenders hustling to keep up with demand. A wall of mirrors backed the bar and reflected the room, so that it seemed to go on forever.
Isa reached across the table and patted Kyra’s hand. “Don’t let him get to you like this.”
“Can’t help it,” she admitted, and dragged one fingernail through the circle of water left by her glass on the tabletop. Staring blindly at the path of her scarlet nail, she muttered, “He’s going to fire me.”
“You don’t know that.”
She laughed shortly, despite the sinking sensation inside. “Sure I do.” Reaching out, she snagged a tortilla chip, then sat back in her chair and nibbled it. “He’s hated me since day one.”
“You don’t know that, either.”
“Please. He ignores me in meetings and practically runs the other way if he happens to see me in a hallway.”
“Hmm…” Isa smiled, took a sip of her drink and set it down again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her best friend shrugged and smiled. “Just hmm…”
“There’s more.”
“I’m only thinking that maybe he’s not avoiding you because he hates you, but because he’s attracted to you.”
Kyra choked on a piece of chip. Coughing wildly, she held up one hand, grabbed her margarita and took a gulp. Still choking, eyes watering, she stared at the other woman. “Are you nuts?”
Laughing now, Isa shook her head and winked at a nearby man when he turned to look at her. Then, focusing on Kyra again, she said, “Sexual tension can erupt in the weirdest places.”
Kyra felt a rush shoot straight through her. Her friend’s words echoed over and over in her mind, and Kyra tried, desperately, to think about them objectively. But there was just no way.
“This isn’t about sexual tension,” she snapped, then winced and lowered her voice as she leaned across the table. “Trust me when I say neither one of us is feeling anything like that.”
“Uh-huh.”
Disbelief rang in Isa’s tone, and Kyra didn’t know how to convince her friend. Especially when there was a slim, fragile, wispy, almost nonexistent thread of worry unspooling inside her. Fine. Garrett was gorgeous. And just maybe, under other, very different circumstances, there might have been something between them.
In a different life.
On a different planet.
In another universe.
Oh, boy.
“I see that look,” Isa said with an air of triumph.
“What look?”
“The look that says, ‘I might be interested.’”
“I’m not.”
“Sure.”
“And even if I were,” Kyra hedged, “he isn’t.”
“Okay.”
“Stop agreeing with me.”
“Whatever you say.”
Kyra’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing this deliberately.”
“Yeah,” Isa said, laughing. “But it got your mind off everything else, didn’t it?”
Yes, it had. However, her mind was probably safer worrying about being fired than it was thinking about Garrett Wolff in a sexual way. She’d spent the last two days waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d half expected to be called into his office for the review he’d promised her and then be given a hearty handshake and a severance check.
Her nerves were stretched tight and every breath felt like an Olympic event. She couldn’t take much more of this. Plus, Garrett had been acting differently the last couple of days, too. He’d come out of his office and strolled through the division often enough to start making other people nervous. All of a sudden he was paying attention. Talking to people. Listening to people.
And none of that could be good.
There was something else going on here. Something he was planning.
She just wished she knew what it was.
“You’re thinking again,” Isa said, reaching across the table to slap Kyra’s shoulder. “Cut it out.”
“Okay, okay.” Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, blew it out and said, “You’re right. No more thinking about Garrett Wolff. No more thinking about work. What’s the point, right?”
“Right.”
“I mean, if I’m going to be fired, thinking about it won’t change anything, right?”
“Right.” Isa nodded and gave her an encouraging grin.
“And if I’m living out of a shopping cart by this time next month, I’ll survive, right?”
Isa laughed outright. “You really should have gone for a drama degree instead of business.”
“Fine, fine.” She picked up her margarita for another sip, then smiled as she set it down. “No drama. No thinking.”
“Atta girl.”
Across the room, the band launched into a fast-paced song with a pounding, staccato rhythm that had even Kyra’s toes tapping.
“Come on,” Isa said, standing up and grinning. “It’s a line dance. Let’s go.”
She thought about it for a second or two. She hadn’t been in the mood for company tonight. Hadn’t wanted to come out and join the world. She’d wanted nothing more than to curl up in the dark quiet of her condo and concentrate on the misery being heaped on her.
But now that she was here, the world was looking a little friendlier. She wasn’t sure if it was Isa’s influence or the margarita, but whatever it was, it beat the heck out of sitting home alone, brooding.
Jumping to her feet, Kyra said, “Good idea.” If she was dancing, she wouldn’t be thinking. And right now that sounded like a plan.
She followed Isa through the crowd and took her place in the long line of dancers already moving through an intricate ten-step routine. Kyra swung her hair out of her eyes, laughed aloud and slid into the moves with practiced ease, letting go of everything in the sheer enjoyment of the music washing over her.
Boots stomped against the floor, hands clapped, dancers shouted and the band played faster, challenging them all to increase the pace.

Garrett stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched Kyra move. And damn, the woman had some great moves.
She wore a long-sleeved, red silk blouse, dark blue jeans that clung to her shapely legs like a lover’s hands, and shiny black boots. Her hips swayed with the beat and her feet flew, keeping up with the complicated steps of the dance. He watched her toss her head back and laugh, and he was caught by the way her eyes shone and her whole face lit up with pleasure.
He’d never seen Kyra like this.
Always, at the office, she was the career-committed female, on the way up. She was good at her job and concentrated on the work. She was usually pleasant, always efficient and completely annoying. And still he’d noticed her.
Hadn’t wanted to, but how could he have helped it? Any man would have been drawn to the scent of her. The look of her, softly feminine in slacks and jackets that looked as if they’d been designed especially for her.
At Voltage, she was an irritant who touched him in ways he didn’t like to think about.
But here at Rio’s she was someone else entirely. And something inside him tightened into a knot of hunger so raw, so strong, it surprised even him.
He’d only dropped by the club to see the owner, an old friend from college. But he’d been trapped there the moment he saw Kyra headed for the dance floor.
As the song ended, the band jumped quickly into another, not wanting to lose the crowd up dancing. Kyra and the dark-haired woman she was talking to automatically started moving again, keeping their places in the long line of dancers.
And almost before Garrett knew it, he was stepping up beside the tall blonde with the beautiful eyes.
She laughed, spun, kicked her right heel, then looked up at him, and all semblance of joy drained from her face. Her shining eyes went flat and cool and suspicious.
He was surprised to realize he didn’t like the fact she was so upset at running into him.
“Ms. Fortune,” he said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the band.
“Mr. Wolff,” she muttered, then started backing off the floor.
Damn it. She couldn’t get away fast enough. He never should have talked to her. Should have just left. But how the hell could he have done that after seeing her smile? Laugh? Dance? “Going somewhere?” he asked.
“I’m tired.”
“You don’t look tired.” Just eager to escape.
She blew out a disgusted breath that ruffled the fringe of bangs on her forehead. “You know, we’re not at the office. I don’t have to talk to you.”
That stung. And that fact, too, surprised the hell out of him. He scrubbed the back of his neck. “We’re not at the office, so why don’t you drop the attitude?”
Her head snapped back and her blue-green eyes shot sparks. “If you don’t like my attitude, why are you talking to me?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he muttered, though at the moment he was having a hard time remembering just why he’d followed his instinct to approach her. Then his gaze dropped, and he looked her up and down slowly, and he remembered.
This was a different Kyra from the one he knew, and damned if she didn’t appeal to him on all sorts of levels.
Another dancer bumped into her, and Garrett reached out to steady her. At the slight contact, heat swept up his arm and ricocheted around his chest. She sucked in a breath and shook herself loose from his grasp. But her eyes glistened and her face was flushed.
“Kyra,” the pretty brunette shouted from close by. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” She waved a hand at her friend, then shifted her gaze back to Garrett. “If you’ll excuse me—”
She was leaving, and suddenly he didn’t want her to go. “Not afraid, are you?”
She stiffened and he could almost see her temper spike.
“Of you?”
“That’s the question.”
She snorted. “Hardly.”
“Then stay,” he said, holding out one hand. “Dance.”
She looked from his eyes to his hand and back again. “Why should I?”
He shrugged. “Music’s too good to waste?”
Her lips twitched and she looked at him with something a little closer to curiosity than animosity.
“Good point.”
“And hey,” he said, pushing the small advantage he seemed to have, “there’s always the chance that you’ll dance me into the ground.”
“There is that.”
“A small chance.”
“We’ll see about that.” She grabbed his hand and let him pull her back onto the dance floor. Then she took her place in line and fell into the steps of the dance as if it was instinctive.
Garrett couldn’t keep up.
But then, it was hard to remember dance steps when your gaze was locked on a particular woman’s behind and how it swayed in time to the music. Every cell in his body felt as if it were boiling. He didn’t care about the damn dance. He’d only wanted to prolong this moment with Kyra. There was something about her. Something that was beginning to resonate inside him. Something he really didn’t want to examine too closely.

Kyra stumbled slightly, but caught herself quickly and hoped no one else had noticed. She felt clumsy, awkward.
And it was all Garrett Wolff’s fault.
He’d surprised her, showing up at Rio’s.
Astonished her by wanting to dance.
And was now busy confusing the hell out of her by watching her so closely. She felt his gaze on her as surely as she would have his touch. Heat simmered deep inside her and made her long for the cool night air.
But there was no escaping Garrett’s company. Not unless she was willing to let him think he’d chased her off. And she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
As her brain raced and her feet struggled to keep up with the dance, the song ended and the band moved instantly into something slower, softer. The fiddle player moved to the front of the stage and scraped his bow across the instrument’s strings. A haunting melody seeped into the room and the crowd quieted as the lead singer’s voice quietly sang of love lost.
Kyra backed up, trying not to look at Garrett at all. Isa slipped away into the crowd, and Kyra was alone with the man who held the future of her career in his hands.
“Dance with me,” he said softly as more of the line dancers faded back into the crowd.
“I just did,” she said, despite the knot lodged in her throat.
“Kyra…” His gaze moved over her face, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. Holding out one hand to her, he said again, “Dance with me.”
Around them, the music swelled, the strains of the fiddle an aching, living thing in the air.
And Kyra took his hand, stepping in close to him.
She couldn’t say why. She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it would be better for both of them if she simply went back to her table with Isa and forgot all about running into Garrett. But she couldn’t do it. Caught by something dark and dangerous glittering in his pale blue eyes, she followed a stronger instinct than the one telling her to leave.
He held her right hand in his left, wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The scent of him invaded her, making her head swim. The strength of his grip made her pulse jump. The feel of his thighs moving against hers had her closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder.
Her heartbeat quickened and something hot and thick moved through her veins.
Music filled the air and swept through her senses, making everything seem sharper, clearer, hotter. She felt as if she were quivering, poised on the very lip of a precipice. But she couldn’t see the edge of the cliff and didn’t know what waited for her at the bottom.
All she knew for sure was her life had just taken another turn for the weird.

Four
T he music stopped, then started again with a pulse-pounding, foot-stomping beat.
And still Garrett couldn’t let Kyra go. She felt good in his arms. Too good. It wasn’t something he’d expected, but now that he’d found it, damned if he didn’t want to hold on to the feeling.
She stared up at him, ignoring the other dancers, as he was. Her eyes looked more green than blue in the dim light of the club, and he felt, as well as saw, the flicker of something warm and intriguing in their depths.
All around them, dancers moved to the beat while the two of them stood, gazes locked, oblivious to everyone else. His chest tight, Garrett fought for breath and told himself to let her go. To step back before he did something that neither of them would be happy about.
But Kyra moved first.
“Thanks,” she said, sliding her hand from his and stepping out of his embrace. “For the dance, I mean,” she added quickly.
His hands felt empty, and he rubbed the tips of his fingers together as if trying to find the warmth that had slipped away so suddenly.
“Right.” Nodding, he stepped off the dance floor and waited for her to follow. Once clear of the dozens of couples dancing the Cotton-eyed Joe, Garret scrubbed one hand across his face and tried to find a way out of this now uncomfortable situation.
What the hell had he been thinking?
Dancing with Kyra Fortune?
Letting himself imagine doing a hell of a lot more with her?
Where was this coming from? He’d never known a woman who irritated him more than Kyra. She was opinionated, pushy, arrogant and an all-around thorn in his side.
So why did he suddenly want to grab her and kiss her blind?
“Look,” she said, pulling Garrett from the wild thoughts racing through his mind, “I’m going to go back and join my friend—”
“Yeah,” he said, grabbing at the excuse she’d offered. “And I’ve got to go—”
“—so how about we just pretend this never happened?”
“Huh?” Surprised, he stared at her. Her gaze flicked to each side of her, as if making sure no one was listening. When she looked back at him, her eyes were clear and cool, with no hint of the spark he’d seen earlier.
She blew out a breath. “It was a nice dance, but seriously, it was just a fluke, right? I mean, I was here, you were here….”
He nodded. “Coincidence.”
“Exactly.” She beamed at him as if he were an especially slow student who’d finally caught on to the day’s lesson. “So all I’m saying is that there’s no point in making a big deal out of this.”
Made perfect sense, he told himself. It was the out he should have been looking for. So why, he wondered, was he feeling the first stirrings of anger inside him? He was already regretting dancing with her. Why in the hell should he be pissed because she was asking him to forget about the whole thing? That ripple of anger spread and bubbled throughout his body, and he almost welcomed it. Heaven knew it was a far more familiar feeling around Kyra than anything else he’d been experiencing that night. “So we just ignore it.”
“How hard can it be?”
“Getting easier every second.”
She frowned. “No reason to get cranky. I’m doing this for both of us.”
He folded both arms across his chest and braced his feet far apart in an unconscious fighting stance. “Thanks so much.”
“You know,” she said, giving in to a bit of anger herself, “I think I’m being reasonable about all of this. I’m just saying what you’re thinking.”
“Wow. A mind reader, too. I had no idea you were a part-time mystic.”
Her jaw worked as if she were biting her tongue. Hard. She leaned in toward him, captured his gaze with hers. “I don’t know why you get to act all huffy. This is all your fault.”
“What?”
“Hey, I didn’t ask you to dance.”
Good point. She hadn’t even known he was in the building. If he’d just slipped out the front door instead of following her to the dance floor, none of this would be happening. Disgusted with himself, he felt his battle stance dissolve, and he shoved both hands into his jeans pockets. “If I could kick my own ass right now, believe me, I’d do it.”
Her lips twitched and he found himself staring at her mouth and wondering how it would taste.
Damn it.
“So you agree?” she asked.
Though it cost him dearly to agree with Kyra Fortune about anything, he had to admit she had the right idea here. To just forget about this little blip in their relationship. To put them both back on an even footing. Even if that meant making them armed adversaries again. They were much safer that way.
“Yes.” He gritted his teeth, determined now to just get away from her as fast as he could.
“Good.” She nodded abruptly, but didn’t move to leave.
“Something else?” he asked, pitching his voice to be heard above the music.
She looked as though she wanted to say something, then thought better of it. “No. I mean… No.”
“Okay.” He glanced at his watch, more for effect than anything else. “I’ve got an appointment so—”
“Oh.” A flash of something that might have been disappointment streaked across her features and was gone again in an instant. Then she lifted her chin, looked him in the eye and said, “All right. Then, goodbye.”
“Yeah.” Why wasn’t he moving?
“See you at work.”
“Right.” He still didn’t budge. For God’s sake, he told himself, move.
Before he could, though, she turned and walked away, weaving through the crowd with a lazy grace that held Garrett captivated. Even after the mob of people swallowed her, he stared after her, like some lovesick schoolboy hoping for another smile from the head cheerleader.
He shook his head as if trying to shake Kyra out of his mind. But as he turned and stalked toward the front door, storming through the crowd like a man possessed, he already knew it wouldn’t be that easy.
He’d held her now.
He knew what she felt like in his arms.
And he wondered why in the hell the first woman to stir his senses in years had to be the one woman who made a habit out of making his life miserable.
It appeared that Fate really did have a sense of humor.
A twisted one.

“What the heck was that about?” Isa demanded as soon as Kyra made it back to their table.
She dropped into a chair, slapped one hand to her spinning stomach and reached for her margarita before she tried to answer her best friend. While the icy slush slid down her throat, Kyra tried to get a grip on the different feelings racing through her.
But she just couldn’t do it.
Finally, she lifted her gaze to her friend’s. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Isa shook her head. “Not buying it, girlfriend,” she said flatly. “There is something going on between you two.”
“He’s my boss.” Oh God, she’d danced with her boss. She’d gotten all hot and squishy while pressed up against Garrett Wolff. Kyra propped her elbows on the table and cupped her face in her hands. “This is so not good.”
Isabella laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Yes it is. God, Kyra, you’ve been so tightly wrapped the last few years, you might as well have been vacuum packed. It’s more than time that you cut loose a little.”
Kyra lifted her head and glared at her friend. “Not with him.”
“That wasn’t how it looked to me.”
“Don’t you get it, Isa? The man holds my career in his tight fist. One word from him and I’m finished.”
“Looked to me like he was thinking more about starting than finishing,” Isa said.
“Yeah, but starting what? An affair?” Kyra groaned again. “God, that sounds so cheesy.”
“But interesting, right?” Isa leaned on the table, crossing her arms on the glossy surface. “I mean, there was definitely some sparkage, right?”
“Boy howdy.”
“Excellent.”
“Not excellent,” Kyra protested, though not quite as strongly as she should have.
An affair with Garrett Wolff would be disastrous—and fabulous. Terrifying—and exciting.
“It doesn’t have to be the end of the world, Kyra.”
“Yeah, but it could be,” she said, then added, “and I can’t risk it. Can’t take the chance of putting my career on the line. I can’t fail, Isa. I owe my family that.”
Isa had heard this before, so she leaned back in her chair and shook her head slowly. “You’re always thinking you owe something to somebody. So my question is, what do you owe yourself, Kyra? When do you get to do something just for you?”
Good question.
Kyra only wished she had an answer.

Ryan Fortune drew in a long, shuddering breath and wondered how much longer he’d be able to accomplish that simple task.
His body was shutting down. He felt it. The invader in his brain was winning the battle. He knew with a bone-deep certainty that there were only a handful of days left to him. If that.
Lying against a stack of plump pillows, he shifted slightly in his bed, pleased to feel muscles respond to thought. Such a simple thing, really. To stretch. To feel the play of muscle and bone.
To live.
He stared up at the ceiling and watched the dance of sunlight and shadow across the pale surface. He felt the soft breeze slipping through the partially opened window, and he could smell spring on the wind. Through the open curtains, he saw the trees outside his bedroom, budding now after a cold, hard winter.
He wished to hell he could be around to enjoy another spring. To curse another summer heat wave. Enjoy another Christmas. Hell, to do something as simple as walk the land, Lily’s hand firmly clasped in his.
Frustration bubbled inside. His whole damn life he’d been a doer. He’d never been one to sit when he could stand, walk when he could run. He liked being in the thick of things. Holding out a hand to help those behind, while always reaching forward.
He’d built a proud family. He’d increased the legacy left by his own father, and knew that his children would do the same.
And still it wasn’t enough.
He wasn’t ready to go. At sixty, he should have lots of years left. He should be able to sit on a damn rocking chair on the front porch of the Double Crown and watch his great-grandchildren playing in the sun.
Hell, only a year ago he’d had grand dreams and plans, and now…he only wished he and Lily could stop and watch a sunset together again. He wished he had the strength to run his fingers through her hair, to kiss her, to make love to her one more time.
Ryan’s eyes closed and a soft smile crossed his face as he remembered what his daddy used to say. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.
“You’re right, Dad,” he whispered, as if Kingston Fortune were there in the room with him. Who knew, maybe his spirit was there, getting ready to escort Ryan’s soul on its trip to…wherever.
Funny. His mind kept drifting. Never used to be like that. Used to be able to concentrate. Focus. Now… “No more wishing,” he whispered into the silence of his room. “Instead, I’ll just remember what I’ve had.” More than most, that was for damn certain, he assured himself.
He’d loved and been loved by two women in his life. He’d raised children and known the love of family, which when you came right down to it, was all that meant anything.
He frowned and gave a short sigh—all he could spare. He’d made mistakes; all men did. He regretted some, but others had caused good things to happen in the end, so it was hard to be sorry about them. Still, he’d tried to do his best. Tried to make a difference—not only for his family, but for the world. He’d tried. Damn, he’d tried.
He only wished he knew if he’d succeeded.
“Ryan, honey?”
He opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow, following the voice that he knew would be with him through eternity.
“Still beautiful,” he whispered, and watched his wife’s luscious mouth curve into a smile.
“Silly man,” she said, and unnecessarily straightened the sheet and light blanket covering him. Smoothing, running her fingertips across the fine linen, she avoided looking at him.
She did that so often these last few days.
Ryan knew why. There would be tears in her amazing dark eyes. There were always tears now, and oh, how he wanted to be able to stop those tears for her. He wanted to grab her up, tumble her onto this wide, now lonely bed and bury his body deep within hers.
Strange how the hunger for life didn’t ebb as death drew near.
In his mind, he was still the strong young man who’d seen a teenage Lily Redgrove and lost his heart. It didn’t matter who or what had come between that time and this. There’d always been that slender thread connecting their two hearts. It had taken a lifetime for them to finally come together—and when they had it had been well worth the wait. But oh God, they were being cheated out of all the years to come.
“Stop,” he whispered. “Sit.”
She did, perching on the edge of the mattress as if she were a bird gingerly landing on a live electrical wire. “Do you want anything, honey? Can I get you something?”
“Time,” he said, finding a smile for her. “Give me more time, Lily.”
“We’ll have time, honey. We will.” She picked up his hand and held it gently between her own, as if she could somehow transfer her health, her vitality, to him.
Sunlight splashed across the big room and backlit Lily until her dark hair looked gilded. A strong woman, Lily. She’d been through a lot in her life and she’d never been broken. She’d faced up to tough situations and stood her ground. Yet now she was deliberately trying to pretend that the end wasn’t staring them in the face.
And he’d gone along for the most part. He was tempted to continue to play the game they’d somehow slipped into. To keep pretending that this was nothing more than a bad case of flu. That he’d be back walking the land in a week or two.
God knew, pretense was more comforting than truth. But there were a few things he needed to say to her, while he still could.
“Lily, honey…”
As if she could read his mind, she shook her head. “No, don’t you start telling me goodbye, Ryan Fortune. Because I don’t want to hear it. You’re not going anywhere. You’re not going to leave me. I won’t allow it. You’ll stay right here until I say different. You understand me?”
He chuckled, and the sensation rippled through his aching body like a fever. “You always were a bossy woman.”
She sniffed, surreptitiously wiped her eyes with her fingertips, then smiled. “And you always were a smooth talker.”
God, he’d loved her most of his life. Those dark, exotic eyes of hers. That smooth, caramel-colored skin, the thick, heavy black hair. The smile that lit up something inside him as if it were New Year’s Eve in Times Square.
How hard it was to let her go.
“I want you to remember, always,” he said, keeping his gaze locked with hers, “how much I love you.”
She sucked in a gulp of air. “I know.”
He nodded briefly. “Emmett’s going to keep an eye on Linda, so don’t you worry there.”
“Yes, Ryan.”
He smiled again. “I must really be sick for you to agree with me so easily.”
“Damn you, Ryan, you’re making me cry again.”
He paid no attention. “And you make sure you get the children to help you out around here when I’m gone.”
“You’re not going any—”
“Lily, it’s time to stop lying.”
“I like the lies better,” she admitted.
He gave her a half smile. “Hell, girl, so do I. But even I can’t hold off death.”
“You could if you tried. Damn it, Ryan, you’re the most stubborn, hardheaded, just plain cussedly determined man I’ve ever known,” she said, leaning down until her mouth was just a breath away from his. “Fight this. For me. For us.”
He gave her hand a squeeze, no more than a touch of his flesh to hers. “I’m tired, Lily. I don’t want to leave you, but I’m tired.”

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