Her New Year's Fortune Read online

  “I guess you could say that.”

  Felicity shaded her eyes with her hand and looked out at her. “You didn’t drop the boxes, did you?”

  “No, the boxes were fine. Duly delivered.” She pulled open the door and got behind the wheel. “I, um, I ran into Wyatt Fortune. He...he asked me out to dinner tonight.”

  Even though the action made her wince, Felicity adjusted the seat until she was sitting upright again. “And I suppose once again, you turned him down.”

  Sarah-Jane shook her head and laughed a little, still horrified that she hadn’t. “I said yes. Not that it’s going to do me any good. When he learns I didn’t even give him my real name, he’s going to think I’m a whack job!”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Please.” She started the car and pulled out of the parking spot. “Would you give a guy the time of day if he’d lied about his own name the first time you met?”

  Felicity made a face.

  “Exactly.” Then she exhaled. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Truth or not, he’s so far out of my league it’s not even funny.” Sarah-Jane didn’t even have a league. “It’s not like I’ll ever be hearing from him again after tonight, anyway,” she added. The last time she’d gone out on a date, she’d still been in college. The time before that, high school. Neither episode had been even remotely successful.

  “If you’re so certain of that, then why not just enjoy the evening with him, Savannah?”

  * * *

  “How much do you think she knows?”

  At Sawyer’s question, Wyatt followed his brother’s gaze. He had no need to ask who Sawyer meant. His brother was watching their mother, Clara, where she was seated across the room with their aunt and uncle. Her husband, James, might not get along with his brother, but Clara was too cultured to let that affect her behavior at a family event. After all, it was John and Virginia’s daughter’s wedding they were all celebrating.

  Wyatt watched his mother. She was only fifty-six and looked as fashionable as ever without a single strand of blond hair out of place. A cloud had been hanging over Wyatt and his brothers ever since James had called them into his office just after Christmas to announce he was selling off the company. But not by word or deed did they have any clue if their mother knew a single thing about it. And if she didn’t—which seemed to be the case—then why in hell hadn’t their father told his own wife?

  What was he hiding from her? From them all?

  Wyatt hated wondering, but there was no way around it. That’s what secrets did.

  “We’ve got to tell her we’re not going back today,” Sawyer said.

  At least they were in agreement about that. Once his brothers had finally rolled out of their beds that morning, they’d hotly argued the matter, yet again, until finally, Shane—hangover and all—had stormed out of the suite, effectively ending his part of the discussion. He’d eventually returned in enough time to get ready for the brunch, but Wyatt knew his eldest brother was still struggling hard with the situation.

  Wyatt wanted to understand their father’s actions, too. But he wasn’t willing to go back and hope that James would be more forthcoming about his decision. Their father had said what he’d had to say and as far as Wyatt was concerned, that was that.

  At least Asher was hanging tough, and in Wyatt’s opinion, he had the strongest reason to want to return to Atlanta. Atlanta was the only place that his four-year-old son, Jace, knew as his home. Wyatt figured that the little boy would adjust. He had a father who doted on him, after all.

  Sawyer was iffy, though, hovering somewhere between Asher’s cautious agreement and Shane’s outright reluctance. Even now, Shane was glaring at the plate of food in front of him as if he wanted to kill his scrambled eggs dead.

  When their mother hugged Virginia before heading purposefully toward their table, Sawyer picked up his coffee mug. “Here she comes.”

  “Staying in Red Rock was your idea, Wyatt,” Asher reminded, more than a little dryly. “I say you can break the news.”

  Shane muttered an oath and pushed away from the table, altogether.

  Wyatt watched him leave. “What is with him?”

  “He’s been crabbier than ever since he got in this morning,” Sawyer dismissed. “Maybe he didn’t have any luck with the brunette he was trying to hook up with when we got back to the hotel after the reception. But speaking of hooking up—what happened with that hostess from the restaurant that you couldn’t stop looking at?”

  Before Wyatt could tell his brother about running into Savannah right there at their hotel, their mother arrived at their table.

  “All right.” She propped her hands on her slender hips. “You’ve all been huddling here for two hours, looking like you want to kick a dog. Now what’s going on?”

  Asher lifted an eyebrow, looking at Wyatt. Sawyer hid his nose again in his coffee mug. Brave brothers.

  “We’re not going back to Atlanta today,” Wyatt said baldly.

  Clara’s eyebrows rose. “Then, when?” Her gaze went from Wyatt’s face to Asher’s. Then Sawyer’s.

  “We’re not going back, period,” Wyatt clarified.

  Clara paled a little, looking pained. She closed her hands over the back of the chair that Shane had abandoned. “This has to do with your father, doesn’t it.” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

  “You could say that,” Asher finally said.

  “And Shane?”

  “He’s in agreement,” Wyatt said with a shade more optimism than he felt.

  Clara sighed and sat down in the chair. “I knew there was something going on between all of you. James—” She shook her head, her gaze turning faraway for a moment. “I know something’s been bothering him, too.”

  “He hasn’t told you what he’s planning for JMF?”

  “Just that he’s making some changes.” Her gaze focused on Wyatt’s face again. “Long-overdue changes, is how he actually put it.”

  Even though Wyatt had strongly suspected his mother was in the dark, confirmation still felt like yet another blow and he forgot all about trying to couch the situation in gentler terms. “Selling JMF out from underneath us is a little more than a change.”

  “Selling!” Her eyes widened with shock and it took her a moment to gather herself. “I’m sure your father has a reason for what he’s doing,” she finally said.

  “I’m sure he does,” Wyatt returned flatly. He wondered if his mother would so staunchly defend her husband if his mysterious reasoning ever did come to light. “He just hasn’t bothered sharing with us—not even Shane,” he added for emphasis, “what that reason is. It’s cut and dried, Mom. Dad doesn’t trust us to run JMF. I’m not going to hang around and watch him pull apart everything we’ve always worked for.”

  “And I suppose your stubbornness has convinced your brothers? Honest to Pete, Wyatt. You were born just as stubborn as your father.”

  “Wy’s stubborn, all right,” Sawyer agreed. “But Dad’s the one who’s cut us all out of the loop.”

  Clara clasped her hands together. “I’ve never gotten involved with JMF and I refuse to take sides here when I don’t know the entire story.”

  “Good luck with that,” Wyatt muttered.

  “So you’re just staying here in Red Rock? I’m going to lose you all, simply because of some disagreement you’ve had with James?” Disbelief knitted her brows together.

  “Maybe it’s time for us to make new starts,” Asher said a little more gently. He glanced meaningfully across the room where his little boy was chasing around with the handful of other children there. Jace had spent the night with their little sister, Victoria, and her new husband out at their ranch, and looked happy as a pig in clover right now with his new posse.

  Clara looked toward Jace, too. She blinked hard and Wyatt felt like a heel. But it was their father who had created the situation, not him and his brothers. After a moment, Clara cleared her throat. She sat up straight and eyed them. “If Jam
es wants to sell his company, that’s his right,” she said quietly. “We’re still a family and I expect all of you to remember that.”

  He couldn’t say he was surprised by her stance. And if he weren’t so furious with his father, maybe he’d even wish someday for a woman to stand as firmly by him.

  But he was furious.

  He looked at his mother. “Yeah, well. Why don’t you give Dad that reminder when you get home?”

  * * *

  He half expected her to stand him up.

  But when Wyatt stepped off the elevator that evening right on the dot of seven o’clock, he immediately spotted Savannah perched on the edge of one of the deep chairs dotting the lobby.

  For the first time since the brunch, he felt his tension slide away. He forgot the ache that had held his head in a vise. He forgot the knot between his shoulders.

  She was here.

  Savannah wasn’t facing the elevator and for a moment, he had a chance to observe her profile, unnoticed.

  She looked nervous.

  He’d figured out the night before that he made her nervous. Running into her in the lobby that morning hadn’t changed his opinion. Seeing the way her fingers anxiously twisted the gold chain of the little brown purse on her lap was the nail in the coffin. That’s why he’d warned himself not to be surprised if she’d ended up blowing him off.

  But here she was.

  And he didn’t want her to be nervous.

  He just wanted her.

  He crossed the lobby, and at the sound of his bootsteps, she looked his way. Her dark eyes looked mysterious and she pushed out of the chair, tucking her lustrous, curling hair behind one ear. He’d known it would be long, and it was, hanging gloriously halfway down her back. His fingers actually twitched, imagining how it would feel.

  “You’re here,” she said when he reached her.

  He couldn’t help smiling a little. “Did you think I wouldn’t show?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “The thought had occurred.”

  The night before, she’d worn a black dress that clung to every curve. Tonight, she was wearing a loosely fitted white blouse tucked into a dark brown skirt that swirled around the calves of her leather boots. The outfit was practically severe in comparison to the dress the night before, and visibly too large for her, but she was no less attractive. “Looking forward to this evening has been the only good part of this day.”

  She gave him a curious look, but didn’t give voice to it. He touched the small of her back and headed toward the door. “I thought we’d drive to San Antonio,” he told her when they left the bright lobby for the star-studded evening. “I got reservations at an Italian place on the River Walk that my cousin Wendy recommended.”

  “I haven’t been to the River Walk since I was in college.”

  “What was that? Two years ago?”

  Despite the dark sky, he could see the way her cheeks flushed. “Hardly,” she scoffed. “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “So ancient,” he teased gently. One way or another, he was going to get this woman to relax. “I’ve got two years on you. What did you study?”

  Sarah-Jane could hardly think straight. Wyatt looked like he’d stepped out of the pages of some movie star magazine. And if his stupefying good looks weren’t enough, his fingers were burning a hole right through to her spine. Every inch of her was tingling. “I got my MBA from the University of Texas at Austin.”

  “Impressive.” His hand left her back and he gestured. “I’m parked over there.”

  The same car that he’d had at Red was parked next to a stuccoed planter that was overflowing with flowers. She was vaguely surprised that he didn’t use the valet parking. But then again, when she thought about those well-worn boots he’d had on that morning, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all.

  Wealthy and gorgeous or not, something about Wyatt struck her as decidedly down-to-earth.

  Then she reminded herself that “Savannah” would at least know how to carry on a conversation with a handsome man. “What, uh, what did you study in school?”

  “Besides the girls?” He grinned crookedly. “Finance at MIT.”

  “Impressive,” she returned.

  The parking lot light made his hair shine like gold and his eyes crinkled as he opened the door for her.

  Sarah-Jane sank into the passenger seat. She knew it was silly, but she was stupidly charmed by the action. Nobody had ever opened her car door for her before.

  Savannah, on the other hand, probably had doors opened for her all the time.

  Just be Savannah for a night, she reminded herself. One night. And then the fantasy could end. Would end.

  Her hand swept over the leather seat next to her legs. She was having a hard time keeping her gaze from creeping back to him. “Nice car.”

  “It’ll do for a rental.”

  The fine leather put to shame her economical cloth seats. She wondered what sort of car he drove at home, but didn’t want to ask. With her luck, he’d think she was only interested in his possessions and the truth was, she didn’t give a lick what he drove.

  “So tell me what an MBA is doing playing hostess at Red?”

  Sarah-Jane wanted to cringe. What a tangled web we weave... “It’s a job,” she evaded and wondered if he were to know the real truth if he—like most people—would think she was wasting her degree working at The Stocking Stitch. “I overheard you at Red, you know. About staying in Red Rock. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

  “But you are trying to change the subject.” He gave her an amused glance that she could see despite the darkness. “What’d your mama teach you about men? That they like mystery?”

  Sarah-Jane didn’t even want to think about her mother just then. “Do they?”

  He slowed at a stoplight and looked into her eyes.

  Her breath stopped in her chest all over again.

  His voice seemed to drop a notch. “Let’s just say I’m beginning to see the appeal.”

  Chapter Three

  The drive to San Antonio seemed to fly by, giving Sarah-Jane’s certainty that the evening would be a disaster little time to abate. By the time they were shown to their linen-covered table on a veranda overlooking the river, she was so tense that she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to eat.

  She should just tell him the truth and forget all this Savannah nonsense. He’d be disgusted, sooner rather than later. But she could go home and start pretending she’d never uttered that stupid lie in the first place. She’d be free to go on conjuring fantasies in her mind that would never come to life.

  “Nice view,” Wyatt murmured when he held out her chair for her. His voice seemed to whisper against her temple.

  A shiver danced down her spine and she quickly looked out the wall of windows next to their table as she sat.

  This time, she caught her breath without Wyatt’s help at all. The view outside wasn’t just nice.

  It was spectacular.

  Every tree seemed decked out in sparkling lights—every color of the rainbow, it seemed—and the reflections exploded in the river water like dazzling fireworks. “It’s magnificent.” For a moment, she actually forgot herself, and imagined working that liquid brilliance into a knitting pattern. She looked up at Wyatt, only to find him looking at her, and not the view. His gaze was steady, that faint smile he seemed to often wear playing around the corners of his lips.

  The table was clearly meant for two. Small and round, with a squat white candle inside a clear, heavy glass vase burning in the center of it. Beneath the pristine white linen covering the table, she was afraid her clumsy legs would bump right into Wyatt’s.

  Her nerves ratcheted right back up.

  She twisted her fingers around the purse chain. Felicity had loaned it to her seeing how Sarah-Jane’s usual oversize leather satchel was more suited to toting knitting projects back and forth to the shop than it was accompanying Wyatt Fortune out to dinner. Considering how fancy the restaurant was, she was glad she’d su
bmitted to Felicity’s advice. As it was, she still felt underdressed. Wyatt’s black sweater and trousers had probably cost a fortune. She’d had her outfit for at least five years and it had been a clearance item, even then.

  He looked like her every fantasy come to life, while she was just a fraud. She suddenly pushed out of the chair, clutching her purse to her middle.

  His eyebrows shot up and he half pushed out of his own chair. “Are you okay?”

  Her cheeks were on fire. She nodded. “I, um, I’m just going to visit the ladies’ room.”

  His expression didn’t really change, but he subsided in his chair. “How about if I order some wine?”

  She nodded, her feet edging away from the table. Some portion of her mind wondered how much it would cost to take a cab from San Antonio back to Red Rock.

  “You have any preference?”

  Wine. He was talking about wine. “Whatever you choose,” she said quickly. What she knew about wine wouldn’t fill a thimble, but consuming some couldn’t possibly make the evening any worse. She moistened her lips, more certain than ever that she was acting like the biggest fool on the planet. “Excuse me.” She didn’t wait for him to say another word before she fled.

  Mercifully, the ladies’ room was empty and Sarah-Jane clutched her hands around one of the hammered copper sinks, drawing in a deep breath. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Get a grip,” she muttered.

  Wyatt Fortune wasn’t a high school boy bent on winning a bet with his friends by not only getting the most unlikely girl to the prom but bedding her after. He was a grown man and for some reason, he wanted to spend the evening with her.

  One evening. Her one chance in twenty-seven years to pretend she wasn’t plain Sarah-Jane.

  She knew she had two choices. Either go with the flow...be Wyatt’s Savannah for just one evening. Or tell him the truth and end this before it went a moment further.

  Her conscience would be appeased if she did the latter. The rest of her would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t do the former.