Fortune's Legacy (16 page)

With Garrett, she felt whole. She felt complete. And she felt an incredible hope for the future.

“I do love you,” she said. “In fact, I was coming to you this morning to tell you so.”

“And I love you.” He stopped, grinned and said it again. “I love you. Sounds good, doesn't it?”

“It sounds perfect,” she exclaimed, and stepped into his arms again. Together, she and Garrett would build a family that Ryan Fortune would be proud of.

Because with family, Kyra thought, all things were possible.

 

While Kyra and Garrett made their plans for the future, Emmett Jamison walked the path that Ryan Fortune had walked so often in his life.

He barely noticed the ranch land, the outbuildings or the ranch hands working around him. Instead, he stared at a distant image only he could see.

Rage seethed within him and he fought to control it.
To focus it. His boots scuffed to a stop on the path as he tipped his head back to gaze at the cloud-filled sky above him. He stared hard enough to try to see beyond the clouds to the heavens where Ryan Fortune was, no doubt, looking down on them all.

And talking to the man he'd admired so much, Emmett made him another promise.

“It's a hard thing for a man to admit about his own brother,” he whispered fervently. “But Jason is just no damn good. I'm sorry, Ryan, for all the pain he caused you in a time when you should have been able to claim some peace.”

Emmett's heart ached, his soul stung as he said forcefully, “And I promise you, somehow or other, I will see to it personally that Jason Jamison pays.”

Everything you love about romance…
and more!

Please turn the page for Signature Select™
Bonus Features.

Bonus Features:

Author Interview

A Conversation with Maureen Child

Bonus Read

Fate and Fortune

by Christie Ridgway

Sneak Peek

The Reckoning

by Christie Ridgway

Fortune's Legacy

A conversation with MAUREEN CHILD

USA TODAY
bestselling author Maureen Child has written over sixty books since 1990, and is as excited about writing today as she was then. Recently, Maureen chatted with us as she took a break from writing her latest book
.

 

Tell us a bit about how you began your writing career.

You've heard this story many times, no doubt. I was a
huge
reader. I loved romance novels and always had one in my hand—until the day I read one that I thought ended
wrong
. And as I thought about how I would have ended it, I decided to try to write one myself. That first book was dreadful. But I loved the writing of it so much, I knew I'd found the thing I wanted to do.

 

Was there a particular person, place or thing that inspired this story?

The FORTUNE books are of course a continuity series, started and grown by Silhouette. But yes, I think the characters are really based on people I know. I think a lot of women will identify with Kyra Fortune—that need to succeed, to prove yourself.

 

What's your writing routine?

Ah, my routine. Before the Internet, I have to admit I was much more disciplined. I used to get up early, have some coffee and jump right into the story. Now, I'm still up early, but I drink my coffee as I check e-mail to catch up with friends or connect with my editors. Then I start work. I do a certain number of pages a day, and I work until that goal is met. Once I'm finished, I take care of all the little life things that tend to pile up on a person!

 

How do you research your stories?

Well, I love to travel, so when I get the chance, I'd much rather do my research in person than any other way. But most of the time, that's not possible. So again, the Internet comes into play. You can discover almost anything you need on the Web. But the library and the bookstores still come in very handy. And if there's something specific I need, I use the phone. I've talked to people who work in bus stations and train
stations. Historical societies are a great resource and the local police departments are always helpful.

 

How you do develop your characters?

I tend to start with quirks. It's easier for me to think of characters as “real” when they have certain foibles. A serious coffee habit, for instance. Or someone who jingles their keys in their pockets. Or chewing on a bottom lip. That leads me into wondering
why
they have these little nervous habits, which opens up all kinds of interesting avenues of questions.

 

When you're not writing, what are your favorite activities?

I'm still a big reader. If there's nothing to read in the house, I've been known to read the backs of cereal boxes! I also love to take walks, and I love to crochet. I usually have one or two afghans going at a time.

 

If you don't mind, could you tell us a bit about your family?

I've been married forever and I have two children, grown now, but still lots of fun to be around. My daughter recently got engaged, so we're busy with wedding plans at the moment.

 

What are your favorite kinds of vacations? Where do you like to travel?

My favorite vacation is a road trip. I love to hop in the car with my husband and just take off, no particular destination in mind. That's the best. Wandering around back roads, seeing new things. Great fun. And next year, my daughter and I are planning a girls-only trip to Salem for Halloween! My husband and I both love Ireland and Scotland and try to get back there every few years.

 

Do you have a favorite book or film?

Oh, that's a hard question. Favorite book would probably be
Carnal Innocence
by Nora Roberts. I read that book at least twice a year. Although there are so
many
books that I consider my favorites! As for films, I'm a huge movie fan. Love them all. From action adventure to romantic comedies. But I do love an absolutely
ancient
movie called
Apartment for Peggy.
Just some great characters in that movie. A more recent favorite, is
Sliding Doors.

 

Any last words to your readers?

Last words, first words and all words in between: Thank you. All of you. It's because of you that I'm allowed to make a living doing what I love to do. I appreciate your support more than you know! Happy reading!

FATE AND FORTUNE
by Christie Ridgway
A brand-new Fortunes of Texas story (The final chapter in a 3–part serial)

R
eese wasn't a man to waste an opportunity. When Daisy had said “Frankly, the only idea that seems any good to me right now is you” with that honest, and honestly hot look in her eyes, he'd been out of his chair in a flash.

He'd hustled her out of the café and across the street to the inn, pausing only to order a picnic basket of food to be delivered to his room ASAP. Though his reunion with Daisy had come at the hands of a dangerous kidnapper, Reese wasn't taking another chance that she'd get away from him without holding her in his arms one more time.

The food followed on their heels, so he didn't think she had a chance to get nervous before he handed her a glass of chilled wine and spread out fried chicken, potato salad, fresh fruit and a selection of homemade cookies across the small corner table.

With a click, he tapped his wine glass against
hers, and tried to appear smooth and charming and adult—anything but adolescent, horny and nervous, the true way he was feeling.

The fact was that none of his dozens of penthouse weekend flings had prepared him to face a grown-up, sexy-as-all-get-out Daisy Frances across a king-sized mattress. He let out a slow breath. “Can I fix you a plate?” he asked, gesturing toward the food.

She took a sip from her glass. “I couldn't eat a thing.”

Thank God. “Me neither.” He swallowed down some of his own wine. “I feel like a kid again.”

Her lips twitched into a little smile. “I wasn't nervous then.”

“No?”

“That first time, I felt sure you knew what you were doing.”

He laughed, and it felt good. “I had no idea. You were my first.”

Her eyes widened. “What? Then I'm even more impressed than I was then. How did you know—”

“I read a lot.” And with her laughter, he felt his pulse calm enough for him to approach her and lift her wine out of her hand. He set both of their glasses on the little table. His arms linked behind her back. “I still read a lot.”

Her eyes danced. “Whoopee.”

He bent his head. “Yeah, whoopee.”

And then, that's what it was. Whoopee. Exuberant, giddy, teenagers-again whoopee.

“I still love the way you taste,” he said, taking a nip of her earlobe.

“I still love the way you jump,” she replied, running her hand along the heavy ridge in his pants.

“That's a
hello
,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Then this is a
hello
back.” And pressed her hips against his.

Their shirts came off, his more quickly than hers, because he loved to torture her with the slow movement of his fingers. Then he placed his palms over her bra-covered breasts and held them in his hands, reveling in the sweetness of their weight, in the sweetness of Daisy and how good, how right it felt to be with her again.

The magic never lasts.

Of course it didn't, but it was back for the moment, back for the afternoon, and he tasted it on her lips, in the puckered hardness of her nipples, in the tight, wet sheath of her body. His fingers slid inside her with ease, and she bowed up, her shoulders on the mattress, her naked breasts rising toward his waiting mouth.

He played with her, slowly, thoroughly; he certainly hadn't played with her when he was young and randy and too eager to take her where he wanted to go. Now the journey was about her journey, and
he loved taking the ride with her, feeling every bump, every detour, every valley, every hill.

When she climbed the last one at the urging of his hands, he caught her cry of completion in his mouth, then covered himself with a condom and covered her body. He slid inside her and his head fell back.

This is what's been missing, he thought.

What's been missing? A voice asked inside his head.

“Daisy,” he said aloud. “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy.” And she caught him this time, and held him against her as he came.

They dozed as the afternoon turned to dusk. Reese came awake to find her head pillowed on his chest, her river of sunshine hair draped over them. He sifted his fingers through it, marveling at how content he felt, half hard, yet willing to wait until Daisy opened her eyes. Wanting to wait until Daisy opened her eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in bed with a woman after sex and hadn't thought about how soon he could get out of bed with her and get back to work and the nonstop business grind of his life.

She stretched against him, then stilled, and he smiled, realizing exactly what she was thinking.

“That's right, it's me,” he murmured.

“I thought I was dreaming,” she said, her voice sleepy.

Did that happen often? “I dream of you,” he heard himself confessing. “More than I care to admit.” Then why the hell was he admitting it now?

She half turned to stack her hands on his chest and propped her chin on them. “It's only natural to romanticize that summer.”

“Yeah.”
Romanticize.
Not that he liked the word much, but it explained why all the relationships he'd had since had seemed…less intense. “We grew up.”

“Right.” She smiled.

He smiled back, even though he didn't really want to. “So that was a pretty good time for you, as well? That summer?”

“You know it was.”

Her eyes closed and he marveled at her thick fringe of lashes. Had any woman ever been so beautiful? “I don't think I've had anything that's lasted as long since.”

“Me neither.”

It shouldn't make him feel so damn glad. There were thousands of books, movies, songs about love, and it shouldn't make him happy to find someone else—to find that Daisy—had been as untouched as he by all of them. To put it out of his mind, he slipped his hands beneath her arms and drew her up and completely on top of him.

She squeaked.

It made her sound seventeen again and he let himself dive back through the years and back to that golden, romantic summer when he'd thought himself to be in love. When he'd believed in such a thing.

The sex was just as mind-blowing this time. Daisy felt just as right in his arms. Afterward, he dozed again.

When he woke up, the room was dark. He reached for Daisy, and his hand encountered the crinkle of paper, instead. His heart starting to slam against his chest, he flicked on the bedside light and grabbed the notepaper off the sheet where Daisy had lain.

He remembered her handwriting, too. It was as curvy as her body, as easy to read as her face when he made love to her. “Thank you. It's time for me to go. Have a wonderful rest of your life.”

Reese flopped back against the pillows.
It's time for me to go.
That was usually his line. But fine. Good. No problem. Apparently, she also knew that the magic never lasted.

She'd saved him from having to say the words first. Fine. Good. No problem.

Which didn't explain why the hell he was out of bed and already shoving his legs through his pants.