Fortune Found (14 page)

She knew that if she said the word that was exactly what he would do. Leave. Leave her alone. That that would be the end.

But suddenly all the things her mother had said about getting her feet wet with a man again, about making the most of the time she had with Flint—knowing full well that there wasn't any forever in it—rang in her ears.

That, and the fact that she could no more have made herself tell him to leave right at that moment than she could have sprouted wings and flown made her decision for her.

“No, I don't want you to go,” she admitted.

“Because now I don't mix you up?”

“You're still mixing me up pretty much.”

“But?”

“My mom said it was okay,” she joked.

That made him laugh. “Thank you, Jeannie,” he said as if her mother were there with them.

Then the humor seemed to dissipate and he studied her face as if he needed a moment to drink in the sight of her all over again.

“I've missed you,” he told her quietly.

It had felt like that to her, too, but she didn't want to admit it.

Then before she needed to, Flint put his other hand on the side of her face, tipped it upward and touched his lips to hers.

She couldn't explain it, but there was something meaningful in that kiss. Something that reconnected them after those three interminable days apart. And being with him wasn't only easy—the way she'd told her mother it was—this was more than easy, it felt as natural, as right as if it were fated.

And oh, but it was a kiss that Jessie had been starving for!

So when Flint's lips parted, hers did, too. When his tongue came to greet hers, it was a greeting she welcomed and eagerly answered. And when his free arm pulled her closer, her arms went around him and she did her part in bringing them together in order for her taut nipples to press to his chest.

He wasn't Pete. And yet Jessie had a sense of coming home that she also couldn't fathom. But there it was and she was very aware of fitting within the circle of Flint's arm, fitting against his big body, as perfectly as if she were made to be there.

His mouth opened wider over hers, deepening that kiss and injecting another level of intimacy into it as
his tongue toyed more seriously with hers, as his hand at her knee began a steady climb.

When he encountered the hem of her dress she expected him to go underneath it. But instead he jumped over it and used that hand to release the clip that held her hair, to run his fingers through the waves.

It was reflex that brought one of Jessie's hands around to his chest then, mimicking what she wanted of him without any forethought, realizing what she was doing only when her hand stroked his chest.

But maybe Flint took it as a clue because he drew his hand from her hair and let it glide down the column of her neck to rest on her shoulder, to rub and knead and massage that.

Her breasts were straining against him, crying out for his attention, for that touch that she'd regretted robbing herself of for the last three days.

Maybe it was thinking about that frustration, that unquenched yearning that sent her hand from his chest to return to his back where she delicately dug her fingers into that T-shirt that hugged his body more closely than she ever could.

But then it occurred to her that she didn't have to mind the rules. That she could merely slip her hands underneath it.

Which was what she did—inching, massaging a path down the ever-narrowing vee of his back to pull the T-shirt from the confines of his jeans and snake her way underneath it just as she'd imagined, just as she wanted him to do with her dress…

Warm satin-over-steel—that was what his skin felt like. Honed muscles, tight tendons, sinews all rolled and rippled beneath her touch as he did some massages of
his own—of her back, too, of her shoulder still, then of her upper arm.

And all while his mouth went on tasting hers, plundering and playing and building an ever-growing hunger in her that made her wriggle just a little for want of more.

It might have been that tiny wriggle. Or it might have been the diamond-hard crests of her breasts poking through her dress that relayed the message, but after one last pulse of her arm, his hand went to her ribcage where it paused a moment before he brought it the rest of the way around front.

And again there was a perfect fit as her breast nestled within his palm, offering just enough for his adept fingers to grasp and mold and work like warm clay.

But as with his shirt, what had seemed like too little covering for her when he'd first arrived, seemed like a brick wall between them now, and she craved the feel of his bare hand on her naked flesh, too.

Except that in thinking that it also occurred to her that there wasn't much to the dress. And she had next to nothing on under it. For him to get to her meant that she would be practically nude. And if that happened…

If that happened there would be no turning back and she knew it. So she knew she had to be sure before she relayed any more messages.

But she was sure, she realized when no alarms sounded in her brain to stop her. When it took an act of will to recall what had kept her from this on Sunday night.

Because what had kept her from this on Sunday night had been the thought of Ella, of her kids. And tonight it came to her that this wasn't about her kids. This wasn't
about her being a mother at all. That the same way she'd longed for Flint for the last three days, the same way she'd dreamed of him, thought about him separate from anything that had had to do with anyone else, this was about Flint alone. And her. And wanting him. Wanting this. Here and now and no matter what kind of limits there were on what was to come.

This was just for her.

A bold thrust of her tongue exerted her newfound sense of herself before she tore her mouth from his long enough to pull off his shirt, wanting him to know that she was in this for real tonight.

“Jessie…” he said in a cautionary tone.

It just made her grin. “Flint,” she countered brazenly.

“There's a point of no return…” he warned.

“And I'm already past it,” she informed, making him laugh.

Still, he said, “Seriously?”

But her only answer was to take his mouth with hers and unfasten the button on the waistband of his jeans.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from his throat, and Jessie somehow knew that was yet another warning to her that he was going to take her up on this if she didn't back out now.

But she wanted it too much, she wanted
him
too much, and she didn't have any intention of leaving either of them in the state she'd left them in on Sunday.

And when she sent a coy tongue to convey that, it was like pushing the On button in Flint.

His mouth, his tongue went wild and unleashed. His hand didn't hesitate to slide under her skirt, to pull it all the way up with him when he rediscovered her breast
without the barrier of clothes. And when he retook her breast it was in a deliciously unyielding grasp, squeezing, kneading, proving to her that he was capable of an artistry all his own.

But it wasn't only his hand she wanted there. And it wasn't the only part of her body that cried out for his touch.

Her hands were on his bulging biceps and she moved them both to his pectorals now, spending only a moment there before she began a descent that trailed down his rock-hard abdomen to find the zipper of his jeans.

And the long hard proof of just how much he wanted her.

So much that it was a little daunting. But so, so exciting, too, that she couldn't resist slipping just one hand inside to that hot, hard shaft.

The moan that came from him then was pure pleasure. Her dress came up and over and off in one fast swipe, leaving her in nothing but her panties when he laid her back onto the sofa, when he made quick work of shedding the rest of his clothes as if he needed to break free of chains.

And if what she'd found moments earlier with her hand had been impressive, it was nothing compared to the sight of him in all his magnificent, masculine glory.

He joined her on the couch then, straddling her calves to remove her panties before he laid down with her, partially beside her, partially over her.

One wondrous hand went with his mouth to her breasts, savoring, devouring, reveling in them while tongue and teeth set off a whole wealth of new desires in her.

Desires that raised one of her legs over his as her hands delved into his hair to hold him to the mounting needs he was building within her.

Needs that only grew more demanding when his hand went from her breast, down her belly, to slip between her legs as he drew her breast fully into the wet velvet of his mouth.

It was Jessie's turn to moan—a soft, breathy sound as he found even more ways to please and arouse her. Almost too many ways because she was rapidly losing control.

Again she reached for him, wanting nothing more than to have him inside of her.

But just when that was all she could think about, he slid away, out of her grip.

Protection…

Luckily he'd remembered what she'd been too enraptured to even think about. And just as luckily he was quick about applying it before he was there again, with her, over her, her legs straddling his hips now.

His hands were on either side of her head and he dropped enough to kiss her again, a kiss that was so much more than merely that as he lowered his hips to hers and eased himself inside of her as smoothly as if he'd been fashioned for that purpose alone.

And it felt so, so good that her breath caught in her throat as he began to move—slowly at first, easing in and out, teaching her body the feel of him, the way to embrace him, to close around him and accept him.

Then he picked up speed and with measured strokes carried her along, taught her the rhythm, the beat, the motion that best met and matched him.

Faster still, powerful thighs propelled him, pushed
him and drew him away again, as hers curled around him and held on, moving with him, holding him tight.

Even faster yet, he came into her and out again, taking her closer and closer to a peak that seemed almost unattainable until she actually did reach it, until he took her all the way there and set loose in her something so incredibly glorious that she could only cling to him, arching her spine off the sofa cushions, pulling him to her until she felt him achieve that same peak.

He plunged so deeply into her that she found a second, even greater height of pleasure, of ecstasy that picked her up and let her ride that additional crest all the way through his, finally, finally leaving them both satiated and spent at once.

Collapsing with bodies melded together, arms and legs entwined, Flint's face was turned into the side of hers while they both caught their breath.

Then he kissed her temple and said, “Maybe you should have warned me that under the surface you have a little bit of a wild streak waiting to come out.”

Jessie couldn't help smiling at the thought that she'd managed to amaze him. Even just a little.

“Too much for you?” she teased.

His laugh was ragged and sexy. “I don't know. I might need another taste to tell.”

“Really?”

She hadn't meant that to sound so hopeful but it made him laugh again. “Please don't tell me that surprises you.”

It had. She just wasn't too sure why. Except maybe that because she hadn't thought beyond this once she didn't have a concept of anything more. Anything like Flint wanting more.

And it was such a nice thought…

He rolled to lie beside her then, although at least half of him was still molded to her and his thigh and arm were blissful weights keeping her close.

“Give me about half an hour's rest,” he requested, placing a second kiss to her temple, his voice slow and thick enough to let her know he was drifting off even as he spoke.

Jessie merely smiled and closed her own eyes as three nights of sleeplessness caught up with her, too.

And as she drifted off herself there was just a moment when she wondered why it was that falling asleep in his arms felt like the one place she was meant to be.

But she told herself it was just an illusion of exhaustion and merely let herself have that feeling the same way she'd let herself have Flint.

Knowing it was only for now.

F
lint counted the eight days—and nights—that followed in Jessie's studio as his best. With his Uncle William's wedding ten days away, even before that night, he'd decided to stay in Red Rock until after the wedding. And even before that night, Jessie had had more to do with that decision than anything else.

But never had he expected that time to pass the way it did.

Days were spent much as they had been prior to that night—he went on helping his brother by lending a hand painting the outside of Coop's house and building a shed in the backyard—and he did some of his own work using his up-and-running website and getting the feel for how that was going to affect his business.

During the days, he saw Jessie here and there, and they had another rock-hunting outing with the kids plus
a field trip with them to San Antonio for shopping, an animated movie and dinner. There was also a Fortune family picnic that Jessie and her family were included in, and so he got to have that day with her as well.

But the nights?

Flint lived for those.

After that first one in the studio, after they'd left it just before dawn to go their separate ways so no one would know they hadn't been in their respective beds as usual, they'd let everyone know that Flint had found buyers for Jessie's sculptures. From then on that gave them the excuse of meeting in the studio each and every night after the kids were asleep.

It wasn't a lie that they were working together to come up with a logo for Jessie, that they were attaching the printed logos to the sculptures, that they were organizing and packaging the sculptures and getting them ready for shipment. They did use the first hour or two of those nights doing just that.

But when that work was finished?

The remaining hours of each and every one of those nights ended up being spent the way Wednesday night had been spent—except that they made love not only on the sofa but in the bed, on the floor, on the table and countertop, in a chair, in the shower, almost everywhere they happened to be when keeping their hands to themselves suddenly became too much to bear.

But when William and Lily's wedding was a mere two days away, when the subject of Flint going home began to come up again and again with everyone except Jessie, Flint suddenly found himself in one hell of a funk.

He tried to tell himself that it was a result of how
nice it was to finally feel a part of the Fortune family. That that made facing going back to Denver, to the way things had been before less than appealing. He tried to tell himself that the reason he wasn't looking forward to leaving was that it was nice to have his cousins, his uncle, his brothers and sister nearby, to see them whenever he wanted, to have them drop in, to have impromptu lunches with them, with the Mendozas, at Red.

And it all made sense. The new connection he'd made with his family, with the Mendozas, with the Red Rock community
was
nice, so the thought of separating himself from it and going back to Denver where he had busy friends and acquaintances but no one close understandably didn't seem like such a good thing now.

But in spite of all that? Underneath it? He knew that the bigger reason he didn't want to leave Red Rock was Jessie.

And as he pounded shingles onto the roof of his brother's new shed, thinking about his uncle's wedding the day after tomorrow, about how there was no reason for him not to be on his way the day after that, the funk weighed heavily on him.

Never in his life had there been anything he didn't want to do as much as he didn't want to turn his back on Jessie and walk away.

Never in his life had there been a woman he felt about the way he felt about Jessie.

There had been plenty of women in his life, and yet there was no question that he hadn't just plain
needed
a single one of those women like he needed Jessie.

And not even the possibility of a long-distance relationship, of making sure he came through Red Rock a whole lot more often, helped.

He wanted every day, every night to be the way they were now. He wanted to know that every day was going to end with the two of them together.

He just didn't know how that fit with the fact that he was about as anti-marriage as any man could be. That after watching his mother run through too many men, after his own ugly lesson in the perils of marriage, he honestly believed it was not only a bad course to take, but also the worst course to take.

If Jessie were anyone else, the most he would suggest was that they try living together. But there were two ways in which Jessie wasn't
anyone
else. First of all, she had four kids and parents who already lived with her. That was not a situation open to a just-living-together scenario.

Second of all—and even more importantly—Jessie wasn't merely
anyone else
to him. And as unbelievable as it was, he wanted her to be a part of his life, of his future, in the most unbreakable way he could have. Which translated into marriage.

Which he didn't believe in.

He hit a nail so hard that it bent in half rather than going through the shingle.

Marriage.

He'd sworn he would never make that mistake again.

But the thought of Jessie and marriage?

Regardless of what he'd thought of the institution before, when he put it together in his mind with Jessie, it somehow didn't hit the same sour note.

Certainly she wasn't Myra, he acknowledged. Yes, the physical attraction to Jessie was every bit as intense.
But there was so much more to her than there had ever been to his ex-wife.

He admired Jessie. He respected her values. Those were not things he could ever have said about Myra.

Jessie was strong and resilient, loyal, trustworthy, reliable, dependable. There was nothing fly-by-night about her, nothing unprincipled or unscrupulous—like Myra. Like his mother, come to think of it.

And Jessie had even more qualities than the ones that reassured him that she wouldn't end up stealing him blind and running off with another man or dumping him for someone down the road who seemed like a better ticket.

Jessie was fun and funny and loving and cute and sexy and caring and sweet and smart and talented and interesting. She was everything he'd ever found in any other woman, only she was all of it rolled into one.

She was everything to him.

That realization stopped his arm in midair, mid-hammer, when it struck him.

Jessie was everything to him.

It was true. Shockingly, surprisingly, stunningly true.

So Jessie and marriage? That was something that he could not only suddenly see as a possibility, but it was also something he discovered when he actually considered it, that he wanted. He
wanted
to marry Jessie…

And have every day for the rest of his life end with the two of them together… “Hi, Fwint!”

The sound of Adam's voice made Flint glance down into the yard next door but the yard was empty.

“I'm up here.”

Flint altered his gaze and discovered the three-year-old looking out the bathroom window on the second level of Jessie's house.

“Hey, Adam,” Flint called back.

“I see'd you up there. I gotta go potty.”

Flint laughed. “Okay, go ahead,” he said for lack of anything else to say.

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Flint went back to pounding nails into shingles and reminded himself of that other way that Jessie wasn't merely anyone else—with Jessie came four kids.

Four kids he had to factor in…

Marriage might be going from a sports car to a sedan, but add four kids to the picture and that was taking the leap all the way from sports car to minivan…

From childless bachelor to married man with children—it was daunting enough to give him pause.

Could he handle it?

He did like those kids, he admitted when he thought about it. Even Ella—who was still very lukewarm to him—was a sweetheart underneath her leeriness. And all the kids were similar to their mother in that they were strong and resilient and upbeat and funny and fun, too.

He was impressed by their outlook on things even after losing their father. And he got a kick out of their points of view, their senses of humor. He had a great time with them. And while he hadn't ever seen himself as a parent, he thought he'd done okay helping to give baths and put them to bed, looking after them on all of
their outings. He'd even found himself feeling pretty protective of them along the way.

Granted none of that, none of the time he'd spent with Ella, Bethany, Braden and Adam amounted to much, but still, when he considered himself taking on that role, that, too, suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched. Especially not when he realized that Jessie's four kids were all little reflections of her and it occurred to him that because of that he couldn't help being smitten with them.

But having been a child of a single mother who had run numerous men through his life, Flint knew he couldn't take lightly the responsibility of being the man in Jessie's kids' lives. He couldn't risk disappointing those four kids if he couldn't do the dad bit wholeheartedly and with a solid commitment to be there for them for the distance. To literally be a father to them. A father they could count on as surely as they would have been able to count on their own dad.

Could he do that?

He gave it serious, solemn thought.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he'd liked the times when the six of them had all been together almost as much as he'd liked the times he'd had Jessie to himself.

That he even liked what being with her kids brought out in him—a side of himself that he'd just discovered that made him not only able, but willing and eager to put them and their needs before his own. A side that he'd seen in Coop since Anthony had come into his brother's life. Another dimension that hadn't seemed like something he or Coop might actually have at their disposal before this.

But finding out that they did? Finding out that they
could be part of the Fortune family, and also finding out that they could be part of families of their own—even if it wasn't something that had ever seemed likely given the way they'd grown up themselves—was doubly nice.

“Fwint! I'm done!” Adam called from the bathroom window again.

“Good for you, big guy. Did you wash your hands?”

“I fuh-got.”

“Do it now,” Flint instructed, feeling very paternal and amused by that.

But somehow at that moment, it also occurred to him that what he'd said to Jessie when he'd told her about Myra was more true than he'd known at the time—he'd told Jessie that there were worse things than being a childless bachelor.

And suddenly it struck him that one of the things that was worse than being a childless bachelor would be to have come to know Jessie and her kids, and
go on
being a childless bachelor. To go on without them. Any of them.

So sign me up for the minivan,
he thought.

“Okay, I dood it,” Adam again yelled from the bathroom window a moment later. “Good job!”

“Me an' Gramma an' Grampa an' all us kidses goin' to the store but Mama doan' wanna go. Do you wanna? ‘Cuz you could come wis us if you did…”

“I think I'll have to pass, buddy. But you go on,” Flint advised as the wheels began to spin even faster in his mind.

He wanted Jessie and he couldn't wait to let her know that. To hopefully hear her say that she wanted him,
too. That she'd have him. That they could have a future together. That they could be a family.

He just couldn't wait…

They had plans to meet in the studio again tonight. But if everyone was going out and she'd be on her own now…

Be sure,
he warned himself.

But he didn't really need to think any more about it to know that he was.

He was absolutely sure that he wanted Jessie.

Not for any reason except that he couldn't imagine his life without her.

Without her and everything that came with her.