Fortune's Perfect Match Page 4

  She sat back, surprised. “That’s Lily and William’s place.”

  He nodded. “You’re related, right?”

  “Distantly.” She smiled briefly at the waiter when he set their drinks on the table. “Thanks.” She touched the menu that she’d barely glanced at. “Can we have a few more minutes?”

  The waiter nodded and disappeared again.

  A waitress passed by carrying a heavy tray of food. Emily couldn’t help noticing the way the girl’s eyes fixed longingly on Max. She couldn’t blame her. Emily was having a difficult time not just sitting back to admire the view, herself. He was tall—easily six feet, she’d guess—and his short brown hair was a little shaggy, but thick and glossy-looking all the same. He had an extremely masculine appearance—not fussy at all, but all the more attractive as a result. And his eyes—his eyes were as pale blue as the Red Rock summer sky.

  “All the Fortunes here are cousins something-something removed,” she said, hastily returning to the conversation at hand before he realized she was ogling. “But getting to know them all better has been really nice. So, you must like horses and cattle and all that?”

  He shrugged. “As long as they’re getting what they need, they don’t care who is feeding and watering. Or shoveling.” His long, blunt fingers surrounded his sweating lemonade glass.

  Her gaze slid from his fingers, up along his sinewy wrist. She swallowed and quickly reached for her margarita, looking away for a quick moment toward the glistening water flowing down the tiered fountain situated in the center of the courtyard to gather herself. “Too bad more people aren’t like that.”

  His eyebrows pulled together for a quick second, as if she’d surprised him by the comment. But all he did was unfold his menu and look down at it.

  She sipped her drink, feeling the warmth of the tequila hit her throat. She shouldn’t have ordered the drink. As he’d said, this was a business dinner. Add in the fact that she hadn’t eaten since that morning…

  She set the heavy margarita glass down and stared at her own menu. But she didn’t really see the words. She was fairly certain that there’d been a board listing the chef’s specials at the front of the restaurant which would make choosing easy, since she couldn’t manage to concentrate on anything other than Max.

  She closed her menu decisively. “Tell me a little more about how you got your pilot’s license. Are you able to fly often on the weekends? Where do you go? What do you do?” She couldn’t imagine when he had the time, considering he was holding down two jobs.

  “I don’t necessarily have places in mind to go. It’s the flying itself that grabs me. And technically, it’s not called a license but a certificate,” he said, closing his own menu. “Right now I’m working on my instrument rating. I put a lot of time in on the simulator. Sunday afternoons roll around and I’m either in the sim room or up in the air.”

  She shook her head slightly. “Frankly, I find it a little alarming that pilots learn how to fly sitting in front of a fancy computer.”

  His expression lightened. She’d noticed that happened whenever he talked about flying. “We have to put in that air time, as well. Only some of our hours can come from the sim. The sim’s not only less expensive—no aircraft, no fuel—but sometimes it’s easier to get the time on it. Because…no aircraft. Tanner’s students are all jockeying for time in the planes. Scheduling is a bi—well, it’s a real task. Sometimes you gotta settle for what you can get.”

  “I hadn’t even thought about the fuel.” She barely registered that she’d sat forward again, propping her chin on her hand. “Is it the same kind of gas we use in our cars?” She dipped her finger over the coarse salt lining her margarita glass and sucked it off her finger.

  His gaze flicked away from her lips. He shook his head. “Avgas. Aviation gas and nowhere near as cheap.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess that proves everything is relative. I think the price of filling my car’s gas tank is ridiculous.”

  “Wouldn’t think that would bother you.”

  She felt a little pause. “Because I’m a Fortune, you mean?”

  He held up his lemonade glass, tilting it a little toward her as if to say “bingo.”

  “Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I’m unaware, or uncaring, about the cost of things.”

  His lips twisted a little. “And the last time you didn’t do something you wanted to do because you couldn’t afford it?”

  She let out a little sigh. All the financial advantages that she had at her disposal hadn’t put a baby in her arms, yet. Hadn’t gotten her even close. Her appointment with the adoption attorney that very day had simply underscored that point. There were no women around—none that they could find, anyway—who were interested in a private adoption even though Emily was offering to cover all of the mother’s medical costs. The few pregnant girls who’d responded to her attorney’s ad had all passed on the opportunity when they’d learned Emily was single, and planning to stay that way.

  “Money doesn’t buy everything.” She dipped another speck of salt off the glass and touched it to her tongue. “And money or not, I think people are like your animals out at the Double Crown. Not caring how or why so much, just as long as we have what we need.”

  He clearly didn’t believe her. “And what do you need?”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came.

  And fortunately, the waiter returned then. She ordered the first special he reeled off and she was a little surprised when Max did the same.

  Somehow, she doubted his reason was the same as hers.

  The waiter disappeared again and an awkward silence fell over the table. Emily couldn’t quite figure out why. She’d never felt particularly tongue-tied in any business situation before. She looked around the restaurant. The flickering candles on the tables. The gurgling fountain and the Latin-flavored music. Nothing there felt businesslike. Certainly not sitting at the small table with Max, her knees only inches from his.

  She suddenly didn’t want a business situation. She wanted social. And that was an area in which she’d never felt particularly comfortable. Just like Wendy had accused.

  The young waitress was clearing a table beside them, but her gaze kept turning to Max, and Emily leaned over the table toward him. “I think you have an admirer,” she said softly, sliding her gaze to the side.

  He grimaced and, surprisingly, hunched forward, as well. “That’s just Ellie.”

  She felt breathless with their noses only inches apart above the flickering candle. “So you do know her.”

  “She’s a kid.”

  “I think she looks pretty grown-up to me.” The girl filled out the frilly, white peasant-style blouse she was wearing in a way that Emily had given up on ever achieving when she’d hit twenty. “If looks could kill, I’d be wearing a toe tag. How do you know her?”

  “She used to be a cocktail waitress at one of the bars I liked to frequent.”

  “Why’d you quit drinking?” She knew it was none of her business, but the question popped out anyway.

  “I needed to.”

  Which she’d assumed, but the answer still told her nothing. She took the answer as the roadblock it had probably been meant to be and propped her chin on her hand again. Another fortifying sip of her margarita had warmth sliding down her throat.

  He had the most compelling eyes. She wondered fancifully what he’d say if she told him she’d thought about his eyes more than once in the days since she’d been buried in airport rubble. “What were you doing at the airport that day?”

  “When the tornado hit?” He pinched his earlobe, then dropped his hand on the table. His finger grazed her elbow. But he didn’t move it away and her heart gave a funny little lurch. “I’d been over at the hangar with Gary. We saw the storm rolling in.” His lips compressed for a moment. “Once we realized what was happening, he told me to head over for the terminal, do what I could do to make sure people were taking shelter, while he was g
onna make sure the planes were secure in the hangar.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “When I got there, it was complete mayhem. I didn’t even know until later that the hangar had been hit, too. Gary was hit by a collapsing beam. Damned old man never came out of a coma.”

  She could all-too-easily imagine sharing Gary’s tragedy. “Instead of helping me, you could have been helping him,” she said softly.

  But he shook his head. “That’s not the way Gary would have thought.”

  “Is it the way you think?”

  His gaze met hers. “I think some things happen for a reason,” he finally said. “And I could make myself crazy trying to understand them, or I can just deal with the facts and move forward.” He made a face. “Something else that Gary taught me.”

  She couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward, covering his hand with hers. “You were close, weren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. And when he did, his brief “Yeah” managed to convey so much more. Then he turned his wrist, flipping his hand until their palms met.

  Her heart lurched even harder.

  “Two Red Flame specials,” the waiter announced as he balanced a tray next to the table. “Chicken breasts stuffed with asiago cheese, spinach and sun-dried tomatoes served over roasted chiles. And you know how seriously we take our chiles here. You order ’em, you’re committed.”

  Emily sat back again as the waiter set their plates in front of them. She wished he would have taken a little longer with the food.

  Max didn’t seem to show any such disappointment, though, as he dropped his napkin onto his lap and jabbed his fork into the steaming entrée.

  Emily spread her own napkin on her lap and more slowly picked up her fork. The well-known reputation that Red possessed wasn’t a fluke, and even though she was more interested in her dinner companion than she was in the dinner itself, the spicy aroma coming from her plate did its magic and she tucked into the meal, feeling more ravenous than she’d expected.

  Two bites in though, she realized just how spicy the dish was. “Oh, my word.” She gasped, grabbing her water and downing half of it. “I’ve burnt off the top layer of my tongue,” she said when she finally set down her water.

  Max was grinning. “Didn’t pay enough attention to Julio’s warning when he described the dish?”

  “Evidently not.” She realized she was grinning, too. She couldn’t help it in the face of his.

  “Here.” He pulled the wedge of lime off the rim of her margarita and held it up. “Suck on this.”

  She didn’t know what possessed her.

  Maybe it was the fact that her palm was still humming from the touch of his against it. Maybe it was the way his lips canted up a little higher on the right side than the left when he smiled. Or maybe it was just the balmy evening, the flickering candlelight and the tinkling sound of water from the fountain in the center of the patio.

  Instead of taking the lime from him, she simply leaned forward and sank her teeth into the small wedge, closing her lips around it to suck at the tart fruit.

  His pupils flared.

  Time seemed to stand still.

  Finally, he let go of the lime and sat back. “You want to dance?”

  She slowly drew the lime from her mouth. “Okay.”

  And despite the fact that their plates were still steaming hot from the kitchen, he abandoned his chair and walked around to hers, pulling it away from the table.

  She stood, too, and felt a shiver trickle down her spine when it seemed as if she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

  Then he held out his hand.

  She dropped her glasses on the table next to her plate and set her palm against his.

  Chapter Three

  Max had made some gigantic mistakes in his life.

  But as he worked his way through the restaurant’s dining room toward the intimate dance floor, he couldn’t decide if he’d just made one more, or not.

  The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted Emily Fortune up close and personal.

  And, whether he could figure out why or not, she seemed to be interested in the same damn thing.

  Fortunately, the music wasn’t anything complicated. Just a slow, Latin beat that didn’t necessitate anything more involved than shuffling around between the other couples, and he turned toward Emily. She didn’t hesitate, stepping closer than he’d figured she would, and linking her hands behind his neck.

  It took every speck of willpower he didn’t even know he had to keep from dragging her even closer.

  “This is the nicest thing that’s happened to me in a long time,” she said.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  She tilted back her head and the silky ends of her ponytail tickled his hand where it rested on her back. “Why?”

  “I doubt I’m your usual taste.” He stepped closer, turning her slightly to avoid the older couple dancing next to them. “I’ll bet you dessert that your last date was either a lawyer or a doctor.” He thought for a moment. “Or maybe some Southern trust-fund son.”

  For a second, he thought she would be offended. At least enough to stop dancing with him and end the spectacular torture it had become the second he’d touched her. But then she lifted her mouth, reaching up to whisper near his ear. “You owe me dessert, then, Max Allen. And I like sinfully…rich…chocolate.”

  His fingers curled into the expensive-feeling jacket covering her back. The only thing in his blood right now was sin. And that was a helluva problem, considering Emily was not only out of his class, but she was his boss’s sister-in-law. “Who was he, then?”

  “Terrance Green. A stockbroker.”

  He gave her a look. “Same thing.”

  She smiled a little tauntingly. “You didn’t specify. And I am going to collect.”

  “How long did you keep old Terry dancing on your string?”

  She rolled her eyes and he figured it was his imagination that she looked embarrassed. “We only went out once,” she said. “I accompanied him to a charity auction.”

  He wondered what she’d say if he told her there’d been days during his childhood when he’d pretty much been a charity. “Sleep with him?”

  Her jaw dropped. But then she laughed. “You truly don’t bother mincing words, do you?”

  “So?”

  “No!” She was still smiling, as if she couldn’t believe he’d ask. “Do you really think I sleep with men after only one date?”

  “How many does it take, then?”

  She waited a beat. “Are you just gathering information, or do you have a more personal interest?”

  He tightened his arm around her back, his thigh sliding between hers as they slowly revolved around the floor. “What do you think?”

  Her smile had finally died, only to be replaced by an uncertain look that didn’t do a thing to alleviate the heat literally growing between them. “I think,” she finally said huskily, “it bears some investigation.”

  “Max?” The feminine voice broke through the thick fog that seemed to enclose them in their own seductive world. “I thought that was you.”

  Max wanted to swear when Emily blinked and her expression cleared. He didn’t stop swaying her in his arms, though, as he looked over at his sister, who was eyeing him with no small amount of surprise.

  “Kirsten.” His gaze took in her husband, also. “Jeremy. Didn’t know you two would be here.”

  His sister smiled, though her eyes were plainly curious. “We could say the same. I haven’t seen you out since—”

  “Jeremy,” Max said abruptly, not really wanting to have his sister announce in front of Emily just how long it had been since he’d been seen in public with any woman in his arms. He hadn’t dated in over a year. Back when he was thinking he was heading down the “family man” path, and his life was finally on the right track.

  Until it derailed.

  He let go of Emily so that she could see the other couple. “I guess you two don’t really need
any introduction.”

  “I guess we don’t,” Emily agreed. “Jeremy, how nice to see you.” Her gaze went from her cousin something-something-removed, to his wife, and she smiled wryly. “I should have connected the names.” She stuck out her hand toward Kirsten. “It’s good to see you again. I didn’t realize Max was your brother.”

  Max suddenly felt like the odd man out. His sister was married to a Fortune and Emily was born a Fortune. While he was a guy just trying to make a place for himself in the world. “Our meal is probably getting cold,” he said.

  “Why don’t you join us,” Emily suggested to his sister and her husband. “I’d love to get caught up, and we already have a table out in the courtyard.”

  A table that only sat two people, and closely at that.

  Max managed a smile, anyway. He and his sister had had their moments in the past, but she was his only family. He knew he could count on her, and more times than he wanted to admit, he’d had that point proven to him. She’d been the terminally responsible Allen, and for the past few years, he’d been working damn hard to prove to her—as well as himself—that he wasn’t the terminally irresponsible Allen. He loved her. And he respected Jeremy a hell of a lot. Both he and Kirsten had been there for him when he’d been at his lowest point.

  He just didn’t want to share Emily with them at that particular moment.

  “We’d love to,” Kirsten assured. Her hand was tucked around Jeremy’s arm.

  And that was the end of that.

  They headed back to their table, Emily chattering away easily with her something-removed cousin as they caught up with the family members they had in common, and the waiter managed to squeeze in two more chairs and place settings at their minuscule table.

  She didn’t seem to show any remorse at all that she’d invited an interruption to their privacy. Which left Max figuring that she’d wanted an interruption.

  Certainly wouldn’t be the first time he’d misread a woman, but usually—when it came to the physical matters—he wasn’t so far off the mark. It was just when it came to their emotions and honesty that he’d had a problem.