Bride of Fortune Page 2

  Surely he didn’t find her interesting, did he? Surely she didn’t want him to, she reminded herself.

  “Do you have a car?” he asked before she could refuse again.

  “Not yet,” she admitted. “But I planned to get a cab.”

  “Not necessary,” he said with an enigmatic grin. “I’ll drive you.”

  Adele dropped all pretense. “I’m surprised you would want to spend one extra moment with the ethics consultant Kate has dropped into your lap.”

  “I’m not complaining,” he said. “And you’re not exactly in my lap,” he added.

  “But you weren’t thrilled about it,” she said, pointedly ignoring his spin on the lap comment.

  “What would you say if I told you there is an old Native American saying that ‘A man stands in darkness until someone brings him a candle’?”

  “I would say moo-moo, this sounds like bull.”

  He narrowed his eyes, and for a moment she wondered if she had offended him. Then he gave a rough chuckle. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “One thing I’ve learned from my training is you have to be careful about expectations. People and situations can be far different than your expectations. It’s best to wait until the research is in before you make a judgment.”

  “And you’ve made no judgments about me,” he said.

  Adele opened her mouth, but her conscience chided her.

  He dipped his head. “I look forward to this research. I believe you’re staying in our condo at Saguaro Place. I’ll call the valet for my car,” he said, reaching for his cell phone. “Do you have luggage?”

  Feeling uncomfortably outmaneuvered, Adele frowned. “Just a carry-on. The rest of my luggage didn’t arrive with my flight. You know, you really don’t need—”

  He lifted his hand to halt her protest and pulled out his cell phone to order his car with a quiet voice. Then he cupped her elbow and guided her toward the door. Adele felt an odd tingling shoot up her arm. Within moments he’d retrieved her carry-on from the coat check, assisted her into his Jaguar and was pulling away from the country club.

  “Tell me how you became an ethics consultant,” he said.

  She sank down into the leather upholstery and breathed in his scent. She noticed his large hands were capable on the controls of the car and his driving was swift but safe. Confident, she thought again, and very masculine. The package was surprisingly appealing to her, and when she was alone she would have to figure out what about Jason Fortune got under her skin—so he wouldn’t get under her skin anymore.

  “My specialty is setting up ethics parameters for children’s hospitals and wings. I have a strong desire to protect children, and being a child in the hospital can be a frightening experience.”

  “Were you sick as a child?” he asked.

  “No. I’ve always been disgustingly healthy. Strong Irish peasant stock, I suppose,” she said with a little laugh.

  “Then someone in your family?”

  Adele felt the familiar dull emptiness echo inside her before she quickly, automatically set it aside as she had so many times before. How could a man surrounded by family understand what it was like to have none? “You’ve heard of Orphan Annie?” she asked. “Well, I was orphan Addie. My mother gave me up for adoption when I was very young, and I was raised in a children’s home.”

  He glanced over at her, illuminated by a street-light. “That must have been tough.”

  Although the feeling that she wasn’t a “keeper” had haunted her much of her life, she refused to allow him to feel sorry for her, just as she refused to feel sorry for herself. “Growing up anywhere can be tough. I could have been raised in far worse conditions and been left in the dark about opportunities available to me.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Some days my daughter, Lisa, makes growing up look easy. Other days, I can see it’s hard for her.”

  Adele gave a doubletake. “You have a daughter?”

  He must have heard the surprise in her voice. His lips twitched. “No prejudging from the ethics expert….”

  “Okay,” she conceded. “This may sound silly, but you don’t look like a father,” she said, then muttered, “whatever that means.” Her stomach dipped at the realization that he might be married. “Your wife—”

  “Is dead,” Jason said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s been several years,” he said quietly, and seemed eager to leave the subject behind. “So, what do I look like? Jack the Ripper?”

  “No,” she said. “You look like a super businessman-forever-bachelor.”

  “In that case, you would be confusing me with my brother. He has never been married and loves women in the plural sense.”

  “And you?”

  “I am more selective,” he said.

  But no more committed, she guessed. “Why did you agree to serve on the ethics committee?”

  “This is a family project. I have a passion for it. We all do. We’re all very proud to make it happen. It’s a matter of honor and of giving back to our people. As much as I sometimes get impatient with committees, I have enough experience to keep them from getting bogged down and not getting the job done. I am the best choice.”

  Her respect for him climbed a notch. “It must be nice to have always known where you stood with your family, to know that your position was understood and respected.”

  “My family hasn’t always had it easy. We haven’t always been so respected. You probably know that my father and his brother are the sons of Kate’s first husband, Ben.”

  Adele felt a trickle of surprise. “Actually I didn’t know that. I didn’t ever understand the family connection, but there are so many branches to the Fortune family, I just accepted it.”

  “Ben and Kate hit a rough patch in their marriage when their child Brandon was abducted. Ben couldn’t live with the guilt, so he moved to Pueblo for a while and focused on the Fortune Construction Company. While he was here, he met my grandmother, Natasha Lightfoot, and she helped him overcome some of his guilt and eventually reconcile with Kate. She also gave birth to Ben’s twins. It took a while for Kate to accept my father and his brother, but after Natasha died, she did, and you know Kate, when she does it, she does it the whole way.”

  Adele nodded in agreement and smiled. “You’re right about that. I can’t believe how much energy she has.” She studied his proud profile. “I wonder what your grandmother was like.”

  “She died before I was born, but I think she always felt caught between two worlds.”

  “But that’s different for you?”

  He glanced at her, his eyes stirring her with their intensity. “I’m Fortune and Lightfoot. My father has taught me to take the best from both worlds.”

  “You’re very lucky,” she said.

  “There are also expectations,” he told her. “And sometimes a man wants to be understood just as a man.”

  Adele’s chest tightened. She could understand the need to be known as a human being. She supposed being a Fortune male could put a man in the position of being larger than life. Jason certainly seemed larger than life to her. It would take a brave woman to risk getting close to such a complex man, to know such a man intimately. Brave or foolish, she debated, and knew she wasn’t the woman for the job. She didn’t consider herself a coward, but she tried very hard not to be foolish, especially about men. Especially about a man who possessed qualities that would make him wrong for her. Adele preferred a more amiable, lighthearted, easy-to-manage kind of man, and she would bet her favorite shoes that Jason was none of those things.

  Jason pulled to a stop. “This is your condo,” he said.

  Adele blinked. Usually, she was eager to drink in new sights and sounds. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed anything outside the car. She’d been aware only of Jason Fortune. “Thank you,” she said, determined to get away from the man who had so successfully distracted her. She quickly opened her door and reached for her
carry-on.

  “I’ll take that,” Jason said from behind her, and she felt the brush of the front of his thighs against her.

  Adele felt another jolt at his nearness. “I can handle it. You’ve done too much already. I—” She broke off as he lifted the bag from her hands. He would be chivalrous, too, she thought darkly, and followed him up the walk.

  “Your key?”

  She almost gave it to him. His tone was somewhere between a request and a command. Instead, Adele reached in her purse and removed the key that had been sent to her. She was all too aware of his closeness, all too aware of how he watched her every move.

  “You’re accustomed to doing things for yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she confessed. “I’ve been told I can be independent to a fault.”

  “And what about men? What does it take for you to allow a man to do something for you?”

  She wondered how he made the question sound both gentle and challenging. She slowly lifted her gaze to his and felt a restless sensation inside her. “I’m not sure. I have more practice with being independent.” She tried to think, but she got caught in his amber eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe trust, confidence…”

  “Desire,” he added.

  Adele’s breath stopped somewhere between her lungs and throat. The moment swelled between them, bringing an odd intimacy and sense of anticipation.

  Jason lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers. Stunned, Adele stood stock-still. He slid his warm mouth from side to side, exploring her lips, trying her, then he slipped his tongue just inside her mouth. With a sensual invasion that promised heat and more, he kissed her.

  Adele stiffened her knees, fighting the softening sensation. He pulled back and her mind reeled. What on earth had possessed him? Why hadn’t she stopped him?

  “Welcome to Pueblo, Adele,” Jason said.

  Two

  Adele leaned against the inside of her door until her heart stopped pounding in her ears.

  Welcome to Pueblo.

  She’d heard of ladies who greeted newcomers with baskets of goodies, but she didn’t think any of them looked or acted like Jason Fortune. And the goodies they delivered bore no resemblance to his kiss. She might as well have been whomped upside the head.

  Mortified at her reaction to him, she covered her head with her hand. She’d even liked the way he tasted. This was ridiculous, she thought, whacking the door with her fist and moving away from it. Stupid. She simply could not get jelly-brained over Jason. She tried one of her power talk techniques.

  “Ten reasons I shouldn’t get romantically involved with Jason Fortune. One, I have an important job to do here and don’t need the distraction. Two, he is not my type. He may be handsome and sexy and intelligent—” She broke off and swore. “He is not my type. Three, he is too confident. Four, he would not be easy to manage. Five, his eyes see entirely too much. Six, the way he kisses blows the roof off my head, and I like to be in control,” she reminded herself. “Seven, he is a father and—” She faltered. And I’m not good stepmother material. This was another little dark spot in her soul. Since she’d had no parents throughout her childhood, Adele was extremely doubtful of her ability to be a good parent. After all, she’d had no role models. Because Adele couldn’t contribute to a child with any parenting skills, she had devoted her life to improving hospital policies that dealt with children.

  “Number eight, he’s too sexy,” she continued. If given the opportunity, she suspected Jason Fortune had the seductive ability to get her out of her clothes and into a lot of trouble in very little time.

  “Number nine, he’s too—” she hesitated, starting to run out of negative comments “—tall,” she said triumphantly as she grabbed her carry-on and dragged it down the hall of the lush, contemporary condo. “Entirely too tall.

  “Number ten,” she whispered because it was a secret wish she’d never shared with another soul, “he would never see me as a ‘keeper.”’ As long as she could remember, Adele had wished someone would regard her as a keeper. Maybe someday, but she didn’t dwell on it.

  “Number eleven,” she said, searching for a bonus reason as she stepped inside the spacious, well appointed master bedroom of the condo. The day settled on her head and body like a heavy cloak, and she sighed. “Oh, come on, Addie, you can come up with one more measly reason. His hair? His body?” She shook her head. She’d had to fight the temptation to run her fingers through his hair, and the Italian suit he’d worn hadn’t concealed his muscular frame. She groaned, racking her brain. “He’s a maverick,” she finally said. “Mavericks are often uncooperative.”

  Takes one to know one, her conscience chided in singsong, but Adele drowned it out by belting out a Sheryl Crow song. As far as Jason Fortune was concerned, he was cooked. Stick a fork in him, he’s done. Take him off the table. Adele had more than ten reasons why.

  The following morning Adele awakened to the sound of someone pounding on her front door, quickly joined by the ring of her telephone. Stumbling out of bed, she grabbed the phone and ran to the door. “Hello,” she said breathlessly to both.

  “Luggage for Adele O’Neil,” the delivery man said.

  “Yes, thank you! I could kiss you!” she said.

  “I accept the offer,” the deep male voice on the phone said.

  Adele’s heart jumped. “Mr. Fortune?”

  “Yes, yours is the best offer I’ve received this morning.”

  Feeling blood rush to her cheeks, Adele dragged the rest of her luggage inside and waved another thank-you to the delivery man. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the man who brought my luggage. I was starting to get worried about it.”

  “So you trade kisses for luggage?” he asked.

  She fanned her face to cool it down. “It was just an expression.

  “If it’s kisses for luggage, what do you give for breakfast?”

  Adele squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to make her brain move faster than sludge. This was not the kind of man a woman wanted to face in the morning before she’d had her first gallon of coffee. “I hadn’t even thought about breakfast yet,” she said, hedging.

  “No need. I’ll pick you up for breakfast at the country club in fifteen minutes.”

  Adele glanced down at her oversize Daffy Duck T-shirt in horror “Oh, no.”

  “No?” he repeated as if he were unaccustomed to hearing the word.

  “I’m not ready for breakfast,” she said, brushing a corkscrew curl from her eyes.

  “You have no food in your condo,” he countered.

  That was true. She’d foraged through the cupboards last night and found nothing but some coffee for the coffeemaker and packets of salt. Her stomach growled. “Oh, thanks,” she muttered at her recalcitrant body.

  “Pardon?” Jason said.

  “Mr. Fortune—”

  “Call me Jason,” he corrected.

  Your Majesty might be easier. “I overslept. I’m not dressed for breakfast.”

  “How long would it take you to get ready?”

  “Under normal circumstances, I could probably do it in twenty-five minutes, but—”

  “Fine. I’ll be there in twenty. ’Bye.”

  Adele pulled the receiver from her ear and stared at it. “Twenty! I said twenty-five under normal circumstances. This isn’t normal. I need to pull out my suit of armor for this occasion and that takes an extra thirty minutes, and—” she glanced at the clock, and distress crowded her throat “—oh, peanuts, he’s going to be here in eighteen and a half minutes.”

  Jason had barely lifted his hand to her door when Adele opened it. Her cool, wary, green eyes met his, and her lips did not lift into an easy smile. Most of her curly, red hair was pulled into a topknot while a few strands looked as if they were trying to commit mutiny by escaping. She wore a black suit that skimmed her curves and she held a leather folder under her left arm. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she had a force field around her that NASA
couldn’t permeate.

  “You look good in black,” he said.

  “Thank you.” She walked in front of him toward his car, treating Jason to the inviting view of curvy backside. “I studied the psychology of colors, and I choose my clothing colors for what they communicate.”

  “And what does a black suit say?”

  “It communicates reliability and projects a conservative image and authority.”

  “Don’t mess with me?” he said.

  Her green eyes warmed just a bit and her lips twitched, but she didn’t allow herself to smile. “Possibly.”

  Jason opened her car door, then rounded the car to get in the driver’s side. He noticed she opened the leather folder as he pulled away from the curb.

  “Since you invited me for breakfast, I’m guessing you’d like to hear some of the issues we’ll be covering on the ethics committee.”

  He watched her cross her legs and felt the slow drag of heat roll through him. Black stockings and heels. A wicked image taunted him of Adele dressed in black stockings and heels and nothing else. “That wasn’t why I invited you to breakfast, but I wouldn’t mind hearing what you’ve got planned. This is more of a personal welcome.”

  She shot him a wary glance. “I think you’ve done plenty of welcoming.”

  He saw her shift in her seat and found even that movement seductive. He gazed at her curiously. “Because we kissed,” he said.

  She shifted again and lifted her chin. “I guess I really should address that. We shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Kissed,” Jason said.

  “Yes,” Adele said, her cheeks blooming with color.

  “You’re blushing.” Fascinated, Jason had to tear his gaze from her to watch the road.

  “It’s not polite to rub it in,” she told him.

  “It’s so rare. I can’t remember the last time I saw a woman blush.”

  “The curse of Irish skin,” she muttered. “The point is we shouldn’t have kissed.”

  “Why?”

  She paused. “Because we’re going to be serving on an ethics committee together. We have to protect our objectivity.”