Fortune's Cinderella (14 page)

Oh, he had no doubt her resistance was sincere, that there were real reasons behind the ambivalence haunting her eyes, her blatant avoidance of any prolonged physical contact. She was clearly leery, although whether of him or relationships in general, he still had no idea.

And over the past week, that had begun to worry him more and more. Not her wariness, but the very real danger that…she might be onto something. That the thrill of the challenge might be motivating his interest far more than he wanted to admit. After all, Christina was one smart cookie. And when had he last pursued any sort of relationship—business or pleasure—that didn’t serve his self-interest in some way?

Did he even know how to have a relationship for its own sake? To be with someone simply because he wanted to be with her?

Was his almost constant ache for Christina—the bad timing on that notwithstanding—simply because it’d been a while, or because he genuinely ached for her?

“What’s up?” she asked, her obvious attempt to keep things light twisting his heart. The pansies nodded at him as he approached, the gentle breeze easing through his Oxford shirt, teasing strands of pale gold across Christina’s cheeks. Her lightweight top was a field of softly blurred flowers, blues and lavenders and deep pinks, lazily strewn across her shoulders. Her breasts. Very feminine.

Very her.

“Thought you might like to meet Wendy today,” he said, suddenly realizing exactly how much he wanted to pulverize that wall keeping her locked inside herself…and then shield her from whatever had made her erect that wall to begin with.

At which moment he also realized exactly how groundless his earlier worries were. Oh, yeah, he was in it to win it, no question.

But because he wanted her, not because he wanted to win.

“She said the decorator left a bunch of swatches,” he continued, as though all hell wasn’t breaking loose inside his head. “The two of you could have lunch together, I’ll pick you up later.”

Confusion flickered in her eyes. “You won’t be there?”

“No, I’ve got…some business to attend to.”

“Oh. Well, then…” A smile bloomed across her face. “Sure. Why not?”

“And bring the dog. Wendy wants to meet him, too.”

When he opened the rear door, however, for her to climb into the back seat, she shook her head. “The swelling’s all gone. I’d like to sit in front, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

Once again, getting out seemed to relax her. Her enthusiasm contagious, she told him all about her signing up for online classes, her potential job.

“So you like working with kids?”

She nodded, her gaze fixed out the windshield. “I love kids. What about you?”

“I think kids are the neatest things going. The way their minds work—slays me every time.”

Her eyes cut briefly to his. “So…any plans to make a bunch of baby Fortunes?”

“Don’t know about a bunch…but I suppose so. Although, to be honest, I hadn’t really given it much thought until recently.”

“Oh, yeah? What made you change your mind?”

“I never said I was opposed to the idea, it’s just…” His fist tightened around the steering wheel. “Since getting married wasn’t on my radar, neither was having kids. Then we came out here for Wendy’s wedding, and she’s pregnant and happy and…”

“And you got all broody.”

“I suppose.”

Several seconds ticked by before Christina said, “Betcha there’s a whole slew of gals in Atlanta who’d be thrilled to hear that.”

Scott pushed out a dry laugh. “No doubt,” he said, nosing into his sister’s driveway beside a hedge of rangy, unclipped euonymus. “And here we are. It was Marcos’s before they got married. As you can tell, yard work isn’t exactly a top priority…no, wait, let me help you—”

“Nope, got it,” Christina said, pushing open the door, grabbing her crutches from behind his seat and hauling her adorable little bottom out of the car the same moment Gumbo scrambled out behind her. When Scott reached her, she laughed. “Get me, huh?”

I’d love to, he thought as Wendy waddled outside, looking like a shiny red balloon in her stretchy top. Then Scott noticed his sister’s way-too-high, rope-soled shoes…about the same time Christina did.

“Ohmigosh—those shoes are awesome!” she said, moving much more gracefully with the crutches than she had even a few days ago.

“Thanks!” Wendy said, awkwardly twisting around to show off the three-inch heel, then bending over—sort of—to pet Gumbo.

“These are my favorites, I can’t fit my fat feet into anything else these days! And aren’t you the cutest thing going?” she said to the dog, who’d already propped his pudgy feet on her thighs to get some love. Then Wendy turned her smile on Christina. “Well, come on in, I’ve already got lunch on the table, Scott’s told me so much about you—”

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Scott called, but they were already inside.

Laughing softly to himself as he walked back around to the driver’s side, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in the number already on speed dial. “I can meet you out there in ten minutes,” he said, climbing in behind the wheel and backing out of the driveway.

He still hadn’t decided if he’d lost his mind or finally found it. He did know that whichever that was, none of this was going to be easy. He knew what he wanted, was pretty sure he knew why, but from this point forward it was all uncharted territory.

But as he sped down the highway, his grin stretched his face so hard it hurt.

“You don’t think the colors are too much?”

Grinning at the blinding array of tropical hues splayed out on the nursery’s carpet, Christina shook her head. A few feet away Gumbo snoozed in a puddle of sunlight, ears akimbo. “I love them. Especially this for the drapes,” she said, holding up the bold, contemporary floral print, orange and fuchsia and lemon-yellow flowers on a bright aqua background. Christina sat on the floor, her healing foot stretched out in front of her, while Wendy held court from the aqua-and-white glider already in place in the corner, her feet planted on a matching ottoman.

“The furniture and walls are all going to be white,” Wendy said, “so I figured I could go a little crazy with the rest of it. And I’ve already hired an artist to come paint a border of the same flowers on the opposite wall.” Then she laughed. “When I was little, my room was princess pink. Every square inch of it. It was like waking up every morning inside a glob of cotton candy.”

Christina smiled, the image mercifully blotting out the memories. She seriously doubted if Wendy could even fathom what some of Christina’s sleeping arrangements had been like. “Were your sisters’ rooms pink, too?”

“Heavens, no. Emily’s was all yellows and creams, and Jordana’s was pale blue. Of course, they might have been pink at the start, but that didn’t last long. Any more than it did with me,” she said with another giggle. “I marched into my parents’ room on my tenth birthday and announced I wanted a red room. Or else.”

“Oh, dear. How did that go over?”

“Oh, I got my red room, all right. Except then I started having nightmares about vampires attacking me in my sleep. So I ended up with a nice, soft periwinkle.”

“Sounds perfect.” Christina skootched back to rest her back against the wall, itching—literally—to remove the cast. “And…your brothers? What were their rooms like?”

“Typical boy, I suppose, I never paid much attention. And I was still really small when Mike and Scott went off to college and Mom turned both of their rooms into guestrooms. Very Atlanta traditional, dark wood furniture, striped wallpaper, floral bedspreads.” She made a face. “Tasteful but boring. Blake’s, though—I remember his, since I spent so much time in it. Über high tech. A fish tank large enough to hold a shark. Okay, a small shark…hey. You okay?”

Jerking up her head, Christina nodded, not about to let on that listening to Wendy talk about the family had taken her back to those hours she’d spent trapped with Scott after the tornado. Despite their wealth, in many ways the Fortunes sounded like your average American family, some of the bonds between various members stronger than others. Still and all, what they had—and she didn’t mean their money—was far more than she could’ve even imagined—

“I’m fine, I just wonder where Scott is.” At Wendy’s raised brows, she smiled. “You must be very ready for me to go home by now.”

“Don’t kid yourself. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. I cannot wait until this little peanut is outside and I can walk more than three feet without getting winded. And drive. Nobody tells you when you’re short that if you adjust the steering wheel so it doesn’t stab you in the stomach, your feet won’t reach the pedals!”

But the young woman’s can’t-hold-it-in happiness certainly tempered the moaning and groaning. Yes, more than a few vestiges of her privileged upbringing still clung to her—the baby girl’s nursery was not being done on the cheap, nor were the silver bangles that softly clinked every time Wendy gestured with her left hand, Christina didn’t imagine—but all the trappings couldn’t hide the real sweetheart underneath. Wendy, too, was “good folks,” as Enid liked to say.

Then Wendy said, “You mind if I ask you something?” and a faint prickle of alarm tracked up Christina’s spine.

“Depends on what that is, I suppose.”

Rubbing her belly, Wendy glanced out the window to the backyard beyond, then returned her gaze to Christina, a tiny wrinkle etched between her dark brows. “Did something…happen between you and my brother when y’all were trapped together after the tornado?”

Christina’s face flamed. “What—what do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why I’m asking. And I know the question sounds totally out of line…” She huffed out a sigh, then a little laugh. “I know it’s not possible, but I swear sometimes it feels as if the baby’s pushed everything inside me all the way up into my brain! But if you’d known Scott before…”

She wagged her head. “Everything he did, even when he dated, it all felt so…controlled. Calculated. I never once saw him do something on the spur of the moment. I mean, okay, so all my brothers and sisters live, eat and breathe that business. Just like Daddy. But I always got the feeling Scott was like that because he thought he had to be. Not because that’s who he really was.”

Christina picked up a fabric swatch again, smoothing it over her thigh. “And now you think something’s changed?”

“Oh, I know something’s changed. There’s a light in his eyes I don’t ever remember seeing before. Only thing is, I can’t quite tell what’s put it there.”

Lifting her eyes—and running smack dab into Wendy’s pointed look—Christina nervously laughed. “And you think it’s me?”

A devilish grin spread across the young woman’s cheeks. “Can’t think of another reason why he’s still here. Blake says Daddy’s about to have five fits that Scott’s not home yet.”

And you’re young and in love and running on pregnancy hormones, Christina thought, not unkindly. Because maybe only a few years separated them, but what Christina lacked in privilege and wealth she more than made up for in experience—a treasury that easily trumped the younger woman’s a hundredfold.

“Even if that was true,” she said carefully, “no way would I come between him and his father. Because I’ve been there before, and it wasn’t pretty.”

“Oooh…” Wendy’s brows lifted. “I’m guessing there’s a story behind that comment.”

There was—a long, sorry one—but Christina had already said more than she should have. Through the open window she heard the SUV pull into the driveway. Praise be.

“Nothing worth resurrecting,” she said lightly, hauling herself to her feet and grabbing her crutches at the same time Wendy got to hers and pulled Christina into a hug.

“Listen, I can be a good friend,” she said, her expression earnest. “I also know how to keep my mouth shut. What I’m saying is…

you need somebody to talk to, I’m your girl. But I swear on my life not one word would get back to Scott if you don’t want it to.”

Oddly, Christina believed her. Or at least she believed Wendy’s good intentions. But she’d been that route before, too. So all she did was hug her back and thank her for the offer, just in time to look up and catch Scott’s bewildered expression from the nursery doorway.

“What was that all about?” Scott asked mildly after they were on the road again. Christina frowned over at him. “I heard you thank her for her offer.”

“Oh.” She faced front again. “To…give me some of her recipes.”

“You are one lousy liar, you know that?”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Not to be rude or anything, but it was girl stuff, okay? No boys allowed. So…did you have a successful afternoon?”

The gentle, but firm, rebuke hit its mark. Although considering he wasn’t ready to come clean to her yet, either, this time he could hardly fault the woman for playing her cards close to her chest.

“Not entirely, no. But there’s always tomorrow.” And yet, when she didn’t say anything—in other words, didn’t play the game the way he wanted it played—it mildly ticked him off. “Aren’t you even remotely curious?”

“Not even remotely,” she said. Staring really hard out the window.

That’s my girl, he thought, grinning. “As I said. Lousy liar.”

She scratched the side of her nose, then tightly folded her arms across her ribs. “Bein’ curious and thinking you have the right to pry into somebody’s private business are two different things. Especially when that business has nothing to do with you.”

“What makes you think it doesn’t?”

The car bumped over some debris in the road. “In that case, I really don’t want to know.”

Scott chuckled. “You are one strange bird, you know that?”

“Never said I wasn’t…why are we turning off here?”

“Don’t you recognize it?”

“Well, yeah, it’s where the old barn used to be, but—”

“Then you probably know there’s a pretty little stand of pines by a pond on the other side of the property. It’s a beautiful day—I thought you might like to go sit by it for a bit.”

She looked like a little girl being teased by somebody holding a favorite doll out of her reach. “Whoever owns the land might not take kindly to us trespassing, you know.”