Fortune's Proposal (7 page)

And now, he felt like the worst kind of selfish idiot for not having forewarned her. God only knew what was going on in Red Rock with his father disappearing.

“You should go back to San Diego,” he said abruptly.

“What? Now? No way.”

“What if things get dangerous?”

Her brows pulled together, a mutinous set to her slightly pointed chin that he'd seen often enough in the past to know she meant business. “What if they do?” she challenged. “Your family believes we're engaged.” She waved her hand with the ring, as if he needed reminding. “What kind of a person would I seem like if I cut and ran now?”

“They'd think maybe I was trying to keep you safe!”

She looked bewildered. “From what?”

“Murder. Arson. Take your pick.” His voice turned flat. He looked back out at the rain. It was easier than looking at her. Because when he did, all he wanted to do was pull her in his arms and just hang on. “We've had all of that touch our family at one time or another,” he finished.

“Good Lord.” Her dress rustled as she sat on the edge of one of the deep leather chairs positioned to look out on the courtyard. “Just fill me in, all right? Because my imagination will come up with things probably much worse than what actually has happened.”

“Don't count on it.” He exhaled.

“What happened with Josh's father?”

“Lloyd, you mean?” He grimaced. “Turned out he wasn't Josh's father at all, but everyone—including Frannie, thanks to her mother's machinations—thought he was.” He sat down on the coffee table, still looking out on the courtyard. “In any case, the inheritance that Lyndsey had her eyes on was the same money that Lloyd wanted to get his hands on—one of the reasons why he married Frannie in the first place.”

“Sounds like a prince.”

“Yeah. I don't think anyone in the family ever much cared for him, except maybe Cindy. She thought he was a great catch for her daughter, whether Frannie agreed or not. Anyway, Lyndsey and her lunatic mother weren't interested in having to compete for Josh's inheritance when it did come through, and they caused all sorts of trouble. They tampered with Cindy's brakes on her car when she was in town trying to make nice with Frannie after all the crap she'd pulled on her, they practically burned down Red—it's a great Mexican place owned by the Mendozas.” He glanced at her. “The Fortunes and the Mendozas go way back. Isabella's half brother manages the place now. Anyway, they also tried to torch Lily's barn when she had an event going on there with hundreds of kids. Darr got hurt, actually, trying to save the horses in the barn. Lily still lost one, but nobody but Darr was hurt.”

“And he obviously recovered,” Deanna observed.

Drew nodded once. The fact that Darr's injuries had healed didn't make up for the fact that the crime had occurred in the first place. “Lloyd eventually ended up dead and Frannie was initially arrested for it. Then Roberto—Josh's real dad and the guy that Frannie's married to now—confessed to the murder. They were both just trying to protect Josh, who they feared might have done it. But ultimately, it turned out that Lyndsey and her mother had been behind all of the violence all along.”

“How horrible for them all. And that poor little baby.” She moved from the chair to the coffee table beside him, slipping his jacket off her shoulders to rest across her lap.

The useless strip of thin fabric she'd had wrapped around her shoulders at the church had slid down, exposing the silky-looking expanse of her shoulders.

He focused on the hardwood floor. It was old. It was scuffed and nicked.

And it gleamed with an unexpected, shining warmth.

So did Deanna's sun-kissed, bare shoulders.

He closed his eyes for a moment.

What the hell was wrong with him?

His father had gone missing, for Christ's sake.

He cleared his throat, too aware of the silent house breathing around them. “Wouldn't worry about Brandon much. He's in good hands now. Frannie and Roberto are helping Josh with him. But they've all had to come to terms with some pretty serious lies from Cindy and Lloyd that opened the door for what ended up happening in the first place. Toss in psychotic Lyndsey and it was a recipe for disaster.”

Deanna let out a long breath and shook her head
slightly. She put her hand on his arm, squeezing a little before moving it back to her lap. But the zinging warmth of her touch remained. He curled his fist and was damned if he knew if he was trying to hold on to the warmth or get rid of it.

“I thought I had a crazy mother,” she was saying. “But the worst thing that Gigi's ever done was get fired for engaging in inappropriate behavior in the workplace.”

He gave her a look. “What's that supposed to mean?”

She looked away. “Use your imagination.”

He could think of only a few things. Stealing. Doing drugs. Or having sex.

Somehow—maybe it was the way Deanna always was the soul of propriety in the office—he was betting on the last. And he also figured that her mother had done a few other things that weren't so great.

Like spending herself into the poorhouse and expecting her daughter to bail her out.

There was something seriously upside down there.

Not that he was in any position to judge family relationships.

He'd accused his father of forgetting his own family in favor of Lily.

And dammit all to hell, he couldn't stop smelling the green apple scent of his assistant's glossy red hair.

He pushed to his feet again, moving to the window. The glass felt chilly against his palm when he pressed his hand against it. “I'd feel better if you went back.”

“Because you don't want me in the way?”

He shot her a look. “Did I say that?”

“No, but that doesn't mean it wasn't what you meant. It's one thing to need a fiancée for appearances' sake at a wedding. It's another thing to have her hanging
around where you don't want her when the situation has changed.”

He turned toward her, staring. “God help a woman's mind. All I was thinking about is your freaking safety!”

“Well, you don't have to yell at me!”

“I'm not.” But his voice was raised. And so was hers.

He turned again and looked out at the courtyard and wished he were standing on the beach. But not even having an ocean spread out in front of him was going to be enough to swallow up the roiling turmoil inside of him.

“Drew.” Her voice was soft. She set aside his jacket and stood up, moving beside him. Her fingertips grazed his arm. “Your father is going to be all right.”

His jaw tightened until it ached. “None of us know that.”

Deanna swallowed past the lump in her throat. She covered his clenched fist with hers. Maybe their engagement wasn't rooted in the normal things, but that didn't mean she didn't genuinely care about him. “I'm not leaving until we do.”

He turned and closed his hands around her shoulders. “What if something happens to you?”

She swallowed the shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with some imagined fear on his part and everything to do with him. “Nothing is going to happen. And I am not leaving.”

“I could fire you.”

She met his gaze head-on. “You won't.”

“I could tell everyone that we broke up.”

Her jaw tightened. “You could.”

“They'd figure it was my fault, that I was just acting
true to form. Blowing through women. Nobody would think less of you for deserting me during a crisis.”

“I think you're underestimating your family's opinion of you.”

“You've been here less than twenty-four hours and you've come to that conclusion, have you?”

Deanna almost could have smiled if the situation weren't so serious. “It doesn't take a genius to recognize how much you all care for each other.” The fact that she didn't have those family relationships made it particularly obvious to her. “And we could debate this for the rest of the evening, or you can just accept the fact that I am not leaving you.”

His brows pulled together. She could see the argument he still wanted to make in his stance. Could feel it in the fingers he was pressing into her shoulders.

“Why?”

There it was again. Just Drew. Plain and simple and wholly devastating and he made her mouth run dry.

But he was waiting for an answer and just then, she didn't have the strength—or even the desire—to prevaricate. So she swallowed past the dryness and told the truth. “Two weeks after I started working for you, I came into the office early one morning. To prep for an important meeting. Nobody should have been there yet. But the light was on in your office.” She watched his jaw tighten. Shift slightly to one side before centering again. “You were—”

“—passed out,” he said flatly.

“—asleep at your desk,” she softened the truth, because his all-night bender wasn't really her point. “You'd been there all night.” His mother's funeral had been only days before.

“You dragged me up and pulled me together for the biggest meeting of my career.”

“I fixed you coffee and found a clean shirt and tie for you.”

“And I paid you back by trying to jump your bones.”

Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “You kissed me,” she corrected moderately.

“But you didn't walk, didn't sue. You could have done both.”

“I believed you when you said it wouldn't happen again.” He'd made that point abundantly clear. And in the years since, she'd recognized why. She simply was not the type of woman he was attracted to, which also wasn't her point.

Although even thinking about that long-ago morning was as much a double-edged sword as it ever was.

“But what made me stay,” she finished quietly, “was the look in your eyes that morning.”

“Hungover?” His voice turned caustic.

“No. The look that told me you were a man who knew what it meant to honestly, really care—deeply—about someone. I knew then that you were going to be a good man to work with.”

“So says the woman who sent my staff home early yesterday because she thought I was being unreasonably demanding.”

She drew in a breath. That was the layer of Drew that made him more of a challenge.

“A good man, period,” she said. “And I've seen that same look in your eyes ever since your father didn't show up at the church. That's why I didn't quit on you before. And that's why I'm not quitting on you now. I am not leaving.”

His eyes narrowed. His hands tightened around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him, until there was not an inch of breath to be had between her body and his. “And what if I kissed you again now?”

He was trying to make her run.

She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

And even though she felt weak in the knees and shivers were slipping down her spine, she lifted her chin.

Her gaze met his. “What if you did?”

D
rew's lashes narrowed until all Deanna could see was the thin glimmer of golden-brown. Her breath stalled in her throat when his hands slowly slid over her shoulders, to her neck.

He lowered his head. “What if I did?” His thumbs rested at the base of her throat and she became acutely aware of her pulse throbbing there.

His thumbs slowly climbed her throat until they reached the underside of her chin. They nudged it upward.

His lips hovered above hers, so close that if either one of them moved an inch…less than an inch…they'd meet.

A door suddenly slammed somewhere in the house.

It might as well have been cymbals crashing behind them.

Drew's head lifted.

Deanna jumped back.

“Christ,” he muttered, shoveling his hands through his hair.

Deanna scrabbled with her wrap that had fallen to the floor without her even noticing. The thin fabric slithered through her shaking fingers as she picked it up and tried to pull it around her shoulders. It just kept tangling and in the end, she bunched it between her hands.

She couldn't look at Drew.

After the way she'd behaved when she'd wakened that morning, for her to turn around and practically throw herself at him now?

Her entire body felt flushed.

Sadly, she knew it wasn't exactly embarrassment, either.

If he really would have kissed her…

“Oh, there you are.” Isabella appeared in the doorway. “I knew you had to be around somewhere because the truck was out front.” She brushed aside a long lock of dark hair from her pale cheek. “I don't suppose you've heard any—no. Of course you haven't, or you would have let us know.” Thankfully, as Isabella settled on the arm of the same chair that Deanna had used what seemed only moments ago, Isabella didn't seem to notice the air that—to Deanna—felt as thick as molasses. “Seems fitting that this rain came out of nowhere, doesn't it?” She shook her dark head and sighed. “J.R. is staying out with Lily for a while. Jeremy came back with me, though. He said he had some calls to return.” Her lips stretched into a humorless smile. “I guess when you're in medicine you're not allowed to get completely away from emergencies even when you're having one of your own.”

Deanna made a faint sound of agreement. She could
see Drew in her periphery, standing like a stone monolith in front of the windows. “How…how was Lily?”

“Out of her mind. And holding herself together with as much dignity as she always does.” Isabella ran her hands down her red dress. “I don't know how she does it, if it's just practice after having lost Ryan as suddenly as she did or what. Not that William is lost,” she added rapidly. “We don't know that at all.”

“Yet.” Drew's voice was dark.

Deanna bit her lip. Their hostess looked nearly as upset as Drew sounded with a pallor under her smooth complexion that clearly showed her strain. “Isabella, why don't you and Drew try to relax a little. I could fix you something to eat. Jeremy may need something, too.” Deanna didn't have any idea if either Isabella or Jeremy had eaten something out at the Double Crown, but if they hadn't, then it had been hours since they'd had breakfast before they'd gone to the church.

“Eat.” Isabella shook her head and pushed herself off the arm of the chair. “My brain is just not tracking today. That's why I came back. Evie left after breakfast for a few weeks of vacation and I knew you all would be hungry by now. Lily was right about her caterers leaving a ton of food, but all we did was pack it up and store it in the freezer. Nobody was in the mood to have wedding reception food, you know?”

“I can imagine. You look exhausted, though. You shouldn't be worrying about feeding us,” Deanna assured quickly. She'd forgotten all about Isabella and J.R.'s housekeeper, Evie. She'd only met her in passing when she'd made herself tea while waiting for Drew to get dressed for the wedding. “If you don't mind me intruding in your kitchen, I'm happy to put something
together.” She'd seen for herself that the large kitchen was amply stocked.

And truthfully, Deanna wanted something—anything—that she could turn her attention to.

The other woman tucked her hair behind her ear. “You're practically family, Deanna. There's no intruding at all. We'll both do it. It won't be hard. Evie's left us with a ton of food. I think she's afraid J.R. and I might starve in her absence.” She glanced at Drew. “Is there anything I can get you right now, Drew? Coffee? Beer?”

He shook his head and finally moved away from the windows. “I need to talk to Jeremy,” he said and brushed past Deanna as he strode out of the room.

Deanna's hands strangled the balled-up fabric as her gaze followed him.

“Poor man,” Isabella murmured after a moment. “This has to be making him as crazy as it is J.R. and the others.” She tucked her hand through Deanna's arm as they left the alcove. “We're all so glad that you're here with him. That he's not alone.”

Deanna managed a weak smile. “I'm glad I'm here, too.” That, at least, was the absolute truth. “Do you and J.R. get to see a lot of Mr. Fortune?”

“William,” Isabella corrected with a gentle smile. “He's going to be your father-in-law, remember? I refuse to think otherwise.”

Deanna knew what Isabella meant, but she still felt her face flushing all over again.

Fortunately, they'd reached the spacious kitchen and Isabella let go of Deanna's arm and headed toward the wide refrigerator. “And to answer your question, yes, we see William and Lily quite a bit. For one thing, Lily is a natural hostess. She always has something going on out
at the Double Crown.” She turned with a large chunk of cheese in her hand and set it on the center island. “Jeremy's probably going to tell Drew. We had the radio on during the drive here from Lily's. The news outlets have already gotten hold of the story.”

“Mr. Fortune—William—is a prominent businessman.” Deanna set her crumpled scarf on a bar stool. “I can't say that I'm really surprised at that.” She bit her lip. If she hadn't been so concerned with Drew, she would have foreseen the matter herself. “Drew should issue an official statement on behalf of Fortune Forecasting.” And how awful it was going to be to carefully craft that statement when they knew so little.

“That's what Jeremy said.” Isabella set two enormous, red tomatoes next to the cheese. “What was unexpected though, was they speculated that William wanted to disappear. Not just skip out on his wedding, but skip out on his life. They were even referring to things in his life that happened more than forty years ago. Business failures, that sort of thing.”

Deanna stared. “But that's ridiculous.”

“You know that. I know that. Everyone in the family—” Isabella waved her hand around “—everyone who knows William knows that. But there are people who don't, and people who love to gossip and make up things out of the clear blue sky.” She pulled a knife out of a drawer. “And we're the ones who have to hear such nonsense.” She shook her head, her lips twisting. “As if this isn't hard enough to deal with.”

“I don't know what to say. Try not to think about it?” Deanna smiled weakly.

But the other woman tilted her head and nodded. “You're right, actually. Focus on the positive.” Her eyes focused again on Deanna. “So that's what we'll
do. I meant to tell you earlier. That dress is beautiful on you.”

“That wasn't exactly what I meant,” Deanna managed wryly. But if talking about clothes helped keep the worry out of Isabella's eyes, she was game. “But I really never thought this dress suited me at all. I kind of packed in a hurry.”

“The color's spectacular with your hair. And if my shoulders and arms were as toned as yours, I'd wear halters, too. You should either change or put on an apron, though.”

Deanna lifted her eyebrows. “You're as dressed up as I am, Isabella,” she reminded gently.

“Right.” The other woman shook her head again, as if she were clearing it of cobwebs. “My brain today. We'll both change. Meet you back here.” She set her knife down with a clatter.

Deanna nodded and they headed to their respective bedrooms and her feet slowed as she passed the closed door to Jeremy's room. She could hear the murmur of voices behind the door and took an easier breath. Drew was obviously still talking with his brother.

She let out a long breath and made herself move on. When she reached the bedroom they were sharing, she quickly pulled out her jeans and a sweater before reaching back to unfasten the tiny dress hook behind her neck. But when she caught her reflection in the oversize mirror leaning against the wall, she paused.

Maybe the fact that Gigi had given her the dress had colored her opinion about it.

Her gaze strayed to the chest of drawers where her purse was sitting. Her phone was inside it, still turned off. Heaven only knew how many messages from Gigi were waiting.

What was wrong with Deanna that even now, considering the way all of the Fortunes were frantic with concern over their parent, she still couldn't bring herself to turn on that phone and speak with her own very alive-and-well mother?

She wasn't even sure if her reluctance made her feel guilty or not.

“You're a horrible daughter,” she whispered to her reflection. It was a frequent refrain, although before that week when Deanna had finally taken a stand with her mother, it was a refrain that had always been sung strictly by Gigi.

She sighed and removed the dress, hanging it on one of the hangers in the closet. Then she changed into the comfort zone provided by her well-worn jeans and the faded green sweater that she'd knitted for herself during high school Home Ec and went back out to the kitchen.

Isabella was already there. She, too, had changed into soft-looking jeans and a sweater.

But what sent Deanna's heart plunging through her stomach was the sight of the other woman sitting on the bar stool, her head bent forward over her knees.

“Isabella?” She rushed into the kitchen. “Is there news?”

Isabella lifted her hand, but not her head. “It's okay.” Her voice was muffled. “It's not William. Just give me a second.”

Deanna leaned against the island, letting her panic subside until she could breath. She frowned at the woman's downturned head, then went to the cupboards near the sink, opening and closing doors until she found a glass. She filled it with water and took it over to Isabella.

She crouched down on her heels so she could see Isabella's face beneath her thick curtain of hair. “You got dizzy again, didn't you?” she guessed. “Like you did at the church.”

Isabella opened her eyes, sliding a guilty look her way before slowly sitting up. Her curtain of dark hair slid down behind her back as she nodded.

“Drink some water.” Deanna fit the glass into Isabella's hand, prepared to catch it if she wasn't able to hold on to it. “Are you feeling sick?”

Isabella lifted the glass and drank down half the contents. Then she let out a long breath. “I think I might be pregnant,” she said in a low voice.

Deanna's lips parted. “That sounds…wonderful…doesn't it?”

Isabella's lips turned up at the corners. “Absolutely. It just seems like now isn't exactly the time to add that to everyone's plate.” Her glance slipped past Deanna toward the empty doorway as she set the glass on the counter. “J.R. and I didn't tell anyone at the time, but I had a miscarriage about six months ago.”

“Oh, Isabella…”

The other woman raised her hand. “It's all right. And we weren't really trying to keep it a secret or anything. It was a blow, of course, once we realized, but I was so early along, I didn't even know I'd been pregnant until the doctor told me. I just don't want J.R. worrying about this right now.”

“Not that I have even twenty-four hours to base this on,” Deanna offered, “but I'm pretty sure he would want to be worrying about you. He's clearly devoted to you.”

Isabella smiled. The color was coming back into her cheeks, much to Deanna's relief. “And I am to him,” she
assured. She slid off the bar stool and went around the island again to pick up the knife she'd left there. “We've wanted to start a family ever since we got married two years ago. I know J.R. will be thrilled. And I know he'll be worried whether he admits it or not. I'm already thirty-two. Like it or not, this sort of thing just seems to get more complicated with every year past thirty. And I don't know for certain, yet. I haven't done a test. It's just a hunch. Not only do I not want him worrying more just now, but I also don't want to raise his hopes if I'm wrong.” She deftly sliced a tomato in half. “You can understand that, right?”

Deanna nodded. “Yes.” She lifted her hands. “But what can I do to help?” She meant more than just the dinner preparation, and the other woman knew it.

“You're the only one I've told,” Isabella said. She let out a deep breath. “Just being able to tell someone is a lot, believe me.” She reached below the island and pulled out a cheese grater and a plastic bowl and set them on the counter. “And you can grate.”

Deanna knew that the other woman would never have shared her suspicion if she didn't believe Deanna and Drew were heading toward the altar, and her conscience weighed heavily.

But she nodded and moved around the island to stand beside the other woman, and began unwrapping the cheese. “You'll let me know if you do need something, all right? Even if it's just to sneak a pregnancy test into the house for you.”

Isabella laughed softly. “I knew I liked you, Dee.”

And Deanna liked Isabella.

She liked every member of Drew's family that she'd met since arriving in Red Rock.

And she hated the deception that she and Drew had created.

But she hated the thought of letting him down more.