Kate Fortune’s Journal Entry

Sometimes people just need a little push in the right direction. Take my nephew, Garrett, for instance. He fancies himself the independent type—you know, too smart to get roped in by any pretty young thing. Poor man! Anyone with eyes can see that he’s head-over-heels for Renee Riley. That’s why I had to send her out to Final Destination Ranch.

And not a moment too soon! Can you believe her father would have forced her to marry a man she didn’t love? Now all we have to do is wait for nature to take its course. By this time next week, I predict a wedding of a far different sort….

ELIZABETH BEVARLY

was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky, and earned her BA in English with honors from the University of Louisville in 1983. Although she never wanted to be anything but a novelist, her career sidetrips before making the leap to writing included stints working in movie theaters, restaurants, boutiques and a major department store. She also spent time as an editorial assistant for a medical journal, where she learned the correct spelling and meanings of a variety of words (like microscopy and histological) that she will never, ever use again. When she’s not writing, Elizabeth enjoys old movies, old houses, good books, whimsical antiques, hot jazz and even hotter salsa (the music, not the sauce). She has claimed as residences Washington, D.C., northern Virginia, southern New Jersey and Puerto Rico, but she now resides with her husband and young son back home in Kentucky, where she fully intends to remain.

Society Bride
Elizabeth Bevarly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Meet the Fortunes—three generations of a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they gather for a host of weddings, shocking family secrets are revealed…and passionate new romances are ignited.

RENEE RILEY: This dutiful daughter was all set to marry Mr. Wrong to save her family’s business until she found herself secluded on a remote Wyoming ranch with Mr. Right!

GARRETT FORTUNE: This stubborn rancher had learned that most women only wanted one thing from him—his money. But sweet Renee Riley seemed different. Could he really trust her?

KATE FORTUNE: The indomitable, forever-young family matriarch is at it again!

Meanwhile, away from the ranch…

JACK FORTUNE: Garrett’s brother has just become a single dad. Will his unexpected new role force this powerful tycoon to see what—and who—is right under his nose?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

“But, Daddy, I barely know him. How can you ask me to do something like…like that with him?”

Renee Riley chewed anxiously on her thumbnail and stared dumbfounded at her father in light of what he’d just asked her to do. Then she remembered that one of her New Year’s resolutions was to stop biting her fingernails— Hey, so what if it was only New Year’s Eve? No time like the present, right?—and she forced her hand to her side. Unable to keep still, however, she immediately lifted it again, this time to run her fingers through her curly, chin-length, dark brown hair.

All around her was music and laughter and joyful noise, and it struck her as ironic that she would be standing in the middle of a wedding reception—and playing the role of maid of honor, too—pondering the request her father had just made of her. Another ripple of distaste rolled through her, making her queasy, and her fist tightened around the bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath nestled against the sleeveless burgundy velvet sheath she wore.

“Renee, sweetheart,” Reginald Riley pleaded in that cajoling tone that had always been her undoing, “what Lyle Norton wants to do isn’t so surprising. You’re a beautiful girl, after all, and he’s a young, red-blooded man, so naturally he’d want you to—”

“But, Daddy,” Renee interrupted him, something she normally never did. Which just went to show how very desperate she was. “It’s such a…such an intimate thing to do. I mean, how can Mr. Norton ask someone he hardly knows to… How can you ask me to—”

“Oh, come on, Renee.” Reginald interrupted her. “Be reasonable. It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep with him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Daddy, you’ve just told me that a man I barely know wants to marry me, and you approve of the idea. Now, aside from the fact that this whole thing is totally archaic—a fact upon which I won’t even comment at length right now—hasn’t it occurred to you that, if I do marry Mr. Norton, then at some point, sleeping with him is going to figure into the deal?”

Her father furrowed his brows thoughtfully. “Oh,” he replied blandly, as if that particular part of the arrangement hadn’t quite jelled in his brain. “Oh, yeah. Then I, uh, I guess I am asking you to sleep with him. But only under the sanctity of marriage.” He hastened to qualify his words, as if that made everything perfectly okeydoke.

Oh, well, gee, Renee thought, in that case…

“And you talk like the two of you are strangers, honey,” he continued. “And that’s just not true.”

“Showing up at three parties where he also happened to be a guest does not a relationship make,” she told him.

“Hey, your mother and I got engaged the second time we saw each other,” Reginald reminded her.

“Oh, sure, the night before you boarded a plane for Vietnam,” Renee reminded him. “There was an element of urgency there that isn’t exactly consistent with this situation. Besides, you always said it was love at first sight with you and Mama.”

“And you don’t think you could love Lyle?”

Renee hunched her shoulders uncomfortably and didn’t answer straight out. Instead, she said, very quietly, “Daddy…he’s your business rival.”

Her father made a face, as if he really hadn’t wanted to be reminded of that particular fact. To counter his sour expression, he said, just as softly, “He’s only doing his job.”

She managed a chuckle at that, but there wasn’t an ounce of good humor in the sound. “His job is corporate raider,” she pointed out unnecessarily. “His whole reason for existence is to take advantage of failing companies and consume them in one big bite.”

Her father nodded disconsolately. “And now he’s going after Riley Communications because it’s one of those failing businesses. I know.”

“So how can you ask me to marry a man who would snatch your livelihood right out from under you?”

He sighed resolutely. “Because, Renee, it’s the only way to save the company.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Reginald inhaled deeply and took her hand in his, meeting her gaze levelly. “Look, I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “Lyle has told me in no uncertain terms that he’ll make a deal with me that would insure I keep the company and receive all the funds necessary to bring it back into the black.”

Oh, she wasn’t going to like this. Renee could tell already. In spite of that, she said, “Go on.”

“Lyle has flat-out told me that if you’ll marry him, he’ll release his grip on Riley Communications, and instead of taking it away from me—from us—he’ll leave it in my hands and invest a substantial amount of money to turn things around. We’re talking millions of dollars, Renee, money that I simply do not have. To put it in mercenary terms, sweetheart, for the price of your hand in marriage, you and I get to keep Riley Communications. It’s that simple.”

“What?” she demanded. “Daddy, this is like something out of the Middle Ages.”

“Not necessarily,” he told her. But, deep down, he seemed no more convinced of that than she. “Marriages of convenience still take place in this day and age. Precisely for reasons like this—economics. It’s not so unusual.”

“But…” She sighed heavily. “Daddy, how can I possibly marry him? I hardly know him, let alone love him. And marriage…that’s for life.”

He hesitated as if struggling to phrase his next words. His gaze never faltered from hers as he told her, “Lyle Norton is a man who could have anything—anyone—he wants, Renee. But he’s also a busy man, one whose working schedule prohibits him from socializing much. He simply does not have many opportunities to meet women on other than a business level, and those he does meet don’t have the qualifications he requires in a wife.”

Before Renee had a chance to comment, her father hurried on. “And on those few occasions when he’s met you, he’s been very taken with you. He thinks you would be the perfect wife for him. Then again,” he continued with a halfhearted smile, “why wouldn’t he want the best, right?”

“But why does he think I’d be the perfect wife?” Renee asked, wondering why she was continuing this conversation when what her father had proposed was totally unthinkable. “He and I have engaged in maybe three conversations total.”

Her father smiled. “Lyle told me that your presence by his side would be the perfect complement to his life-style and his plans for the future. You’re beautiful, educated, socially prominent…”

“Thrifty, kind, obedient, trustworthy,” Renee muttered under her breath. In other words, she thought dryly, to Lyle Norton, she would be an accessory right up there with a solid gold money clip. “I think Mr. Norton might do better with a golden retriever,” she added softly.

“What?” her father asked.

“Nothing.”

“He does seem to be genuinely taken with you, Renee,” Reginald continued, “even if the two of you aren’t well acquainted. And even I, on the receiving end of his—” he hesitated, then evidently decided to call a spade a spade “—his ruthless, blindly ambitious business practices…will concede that he’s what might be considered quite a catch. Any other girl in Minneapolis would probably be shopping for a wedding gown right now.”

Renee smiled sadly. “Nice try, Daddy. But I still think this whole thing is crazy.”

He nodded resolutely. “Look, I can’t force you to marry him,” her father said. “But with the way things stand right now, honey, we’re going to lose everything. Everything. Not just the company, but the house, the cars, your mother’s jewelry…”

“Mama’s jewelry?” she echoed. “But—”

But Mama’s jewelry wasn’t even worth that much, Renee thought. Except for its sentimental value, which, to her at least, made it priceless.

“I’ve made a mess of things, sweetheart,” Reginald admitted. “While you were away at college, I took some chances, made some bad investments.” He shrugged sadly. “I’ve compromised everything I tried to build up for you and future generations of Rileys. It’ll be gone.” He snapped his fingers. “Like that. All those years of hard work and sacrifice for nothing. And, frankly, I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose it.”

Something cold and sharp twisted deep inside Renee to see her father like this. He’d always stood so proud and tall, had always had so many plans for the future. He’d started off with nothing, driven to escape the poverty he’d grown up in, he’d dedicated his entire life to building Riley Communications into a rousing, enormous success.

What had made his feat doubly impressive was that he’d done it as a single father after Renee’s mother died when she was two. Reginald had devoted every moment that wasn’t given to the company to making sure his daughter’s life was as happy and full as it could possibly be. And when he couldn’t spend time on her, he spent money, indulging her every whim, spoiling and pampering her, more, really, than was necessary.

But he did so because he loved her. Because he wanted to be certain she never experienced the pain and hunger he’d known as a boy. And because of the time they’d spent together and the highs and lows they’d shared, the two of them had forged a stronger father-daughter bond than most families claimed.

Her father would do anything for her, Renee knew. And he had made so many sacrifices over the years to insure her happiness. So how come she was balking at doing something that might repay him for all the things he’d done for her?

Really, Lyle Norton wasn’t that bad, she had to admit. Everybody else in Minneapolis thought he was just about the best thing to come along since Belgian chocolate. He had come out of nowhere five years ago to become the talk—and the toast—of the local business community. Phrases like “boy wonder” and “golden boy” were frequently tossed about to describe him, and he was always the centerpiece of every event he attended.

He seemed like a nice enough guy. And he was handsome. And charming. And articulate. Polite, too. All in all, Lyle Norton was pretty much perfect. In fact, when she got right down to it, she had to concede that Lyle Norton was so utterly lacking in flaws, so absolutely perfect that…

Well, there were times when he gave Renee the creeps. He was, in her opinion, at least—she might as well just say it—plastic and smarmy and ingratiating. Worse than all those things, though, he seemed to have no sense of humor at all. The only time she’d seen the man smile was when he heard about a rise in the stock market or the failure of a business he wanted for his own. Nothing else in life seemed to bring Lyle Norton pleasure.

Except, evidently, the prospect of marrying Reginald Riley’s only daughter.

“I hate to ask you to even consider this, Renee,” her father said, jarring her from her musing. “But you’re our only chance to hang on to the company, to hang on to the very life-style that we have. If you don’t marry him, we’ll lose everything.”

When she said nothing, he added, “At least consider it, sweetheart. Thinking you don’t know Lyle well enough is something that’s easily rectified. Just make it a long engagement. Take your time getting to know him. You might discover that you really like him. You could even fall in love with him—you never know. And he’d be a good provider. You’d never lack for anything.”

No, she’d certainly never lack for anything, Renee thought. Except maybe for love. Except maybe for that heady, dizzying sensation that turns a person upside down and inside out, never knowing for sure if it’s day or night, and frankly never caring.

Oh, but, hey, other than that…

Not that Renee had ever experienced such a sensation. To be honest, she wasn’t convinced such an emotion even existed. Although she was only twenty-three, she’d never come close to falling in love. In fact, the whole starry-eyed, hot-summer-night romance thing eluded her. Her friends who had succumbed to what they called love had generally wound up making fools of themselves at best or suffering the depths of despair at worst. So it could be that lacking love in a relationship might wind up being a good thing in the long run.

And it wasn’t that she disliked Mr. Norton. On the contrary, in spite of his smarminess and ingratiating tactics, she had no choice but to admire him for becoming the massive success he was at such an early age. At twenty-six, he was only three years older than she, yet he’d accomplished infinitely more than she had. In fact, he’d made his first million when he was twenty-three. Renee didn’t even have a job. And in a few short years, Lyle had gone on to build a corporate empire that wouldn’t be easily toppled. Renee, if she was lucky, might be doing something by the time she was twenty-six that wasn’t immersing frozen French fries into a deep-fat pit.

Of course, she knew she shouldn’t sell herself short. She had, after all, just earned her MA in liberal arts. And along with her BA in humanities, that was going to make her perfectly suited to—to…

Well, now that Renee thought about it, there wasn’t a whole lot she would be suited to. Except, perhaps—thanks to all those years of etiquette schooling—being a first-rate hostess and a fine conversationalist. Which, now that she thought more about it, might be exactly the kind of training she needed to be a corporate wife to someone like, oh, say…Lyle Norton.

So what if he didn’t wreak havoc with her heart? The least Renee could do was try to get to know him better and consider the man’s proposal.

Hey, as her father just said, he was quite a catch, a man who would take good care of Renee—financially, at least. She supposed, to her father, that was the most important thing. Always the businessman—that was her dad. As much as she knew he loved her, he would be just as concerned about making sure she was provided for economically as cared for emotionally.

Then again, maybe there was something to be said for that, too….

Renee sighed fitfully as she ran her hand through her hair again. It had been a long day, and her maid of honor duties had left her feeling too tired to argue. So she glanced down, caressing the delicate red blooms of her bouquet instead of meeting her father’s gaze. And quietly, reluctantly, she said, “Okay, Daddy. I’ll consider everything you’ve said. I’ll think about marrying Lyle Norton.”

And she would, too, she promised herself as her father kissed her on the cheek and made his way into the crowd of celebratory guests at her friend Kelly Sinclair’s wedding. She’d think about it very seriously. But not here. Not where Kelly had just marked the beginning of a union with her new husband, Mac Fortune, and the baby they were expecting next month. Not where there was so much warmth and promise of good things to come.

Renee glanced toward the floor-to-ceiling windows in the conference room of the Fortune Corporation, a conference room that had been transformed for the ceremony, thanks to a miracle-worker wedding planner. A red velvet carpet eclipsed the floor, satin ribbons hung from the sides of the conference chairs, and at the front of the room, the dais was nearly obscured by pots and sprays of flowers—delicate baby’s breath, red, red roses and sweet-smelling gardenias. The lighting was soft and buttery, the music muted and joyful.

And outside, as if cued to do so, snow fell in a flurry of fat, furious flakes, turning the night sky into a magical sight. Something about the dreamy dance of white satin snow against the black velvet backdrop made Renee smile. Snow buffed all the hard edges from everything, softened whatever it touched, made beautiful what might otherwise be an ugly scene. Snow was quiet. Peaceful. Soothing. Sneaking outside to watch the snow fall, she thought, might help to clear her head.

The wedding party was small—no more than thirty people—so she figured she could slip out unobserved. Kelly and Mac, the newlyweds, were still mingling, and because it was New Year’s Eve, no one seemed anxious to get home.

Renee saw her father engaged in what appeared to be a very intense conversation with Stuart Fortune, and she knew it would be a while before he felt like leaving. So, confident that she could steal away without being missed, she eased out the conference room door.

For a long time, she simply sat in Kelly’s office gazing out the window at the snow. She thought about how she and Kelly had become fast friends in Girl Scouts so many years ago, about Lyle Norton and about her father’s hard work. She even tried to recall snippets of memories about her mother. But mostly, Renee thought about love. About whether or not it really existed, about the different forms it might take. And she wondered…

Well, she wondered about a lot of things.

And she began to grow restless.

She’d been in the Fortune Building often enough with Kelly that she knew her way around fairly well. At the end of the corridor outside was a small terrace that offered a spectacular view of the Minneapolis skyline. She and Kelly had met there to share lunch on a number of occasions, along with a handful of other employees who brown-bagged it. It was the perfect place to which to retreat while pondering the dilemma her father had posed.

So she donned the ivory cashmere coat she’d left in Kelly’s office earlier. There was nothing she could do about her shoes, but the high-heeled pumps would keep her feet warm enough for the little time she would be alone outside.

However, she discovered as she stepped through the sliding glass doors that led to the terrace, she wouldn’t be alone outside. Protected from the snow by a generous overhang, a tall, dark figure leaned against the bricks not ten feet away from her, one knee bent, his foot braced against the wall behind him. He had one hand curved under the bowl of a champagne flute that was filled nearly to the brim with bubbly golden wine, the other shoved deep into his trouser pocket. His head was tipped back, and he was staring at the sky, but he didn’t seem to be seeing much of anything.

Garrett Fortune, she realized. Mac’s best man. She’d barely exchanged a dozen words with him, but the sight of him standing there alone, a tall, dark silhouette against a swirl of white, ignited a spark of heat inside her that quickly blossomed into a near forest fire. She didn’t know why he should wreak such havoc with her senses. But all through the rehearsal last night and all during the wedding this evening, Renee’s every instinct had homed in on him as if he were a beacon of salvation in the blackest night.

And although he had barely acknowledged her, there had been moments when she’d caught him eyeing her in a way that left her feeling oddly flustered. Bereft. Hot. The man roused a yearning inside her unlike anything she’d felt before.

It was the strangest thing. Renee had never yearned for anything before. Wanted, yes. Desired, certainly. But this yearning business was something completely different. Before, whenever she’d wanted or desired, her father had made sure she got whatever was necessary to fulfill her, or Renee went about achieving fulfillment for herself. But something told her this yearning she felt every time she came within twenty feet of Garrett Fortune wouldn’t be so easy to satisfy.

“Hi.” Renee greeted him, trying to be friendly. After all, they would be sharing a terrace.

He started, snapping his head around to look at her. His stiff stance eased when he saw who had hailed him, but he still appeared wary.

Strange, Renee thought. Usually it was the woman alone at night who claimed the right to feel cautious when confronted by the opposite sex. Somehow, though, she wasn’t the least bit threatened by Garrett. On the contrary, she sensed a wall of defense surrounding the guy.

“Hi, yourself,” he replied. His voice was deep, smooth, warm, reminding Renee of a generous shot of cognac—old cognac, the kind that went down oh, so smoothly and heated you up from the inside out.

In spite of that, she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets. “The snow is beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, taking a few steps toward him.

He stared at the fat flakes plummeting down, and for the first time, she noted that he wasn’t wearing a coat. Just a dark, clearly very expensive suit, a crisp white dress shirt and a night-colored tie. In spite of the freezing temperatures—or perhaps in defiance of them—he’d loosened that tie, and had unfastened the top button of his shirt. Somehow she got the impression that being comfortable was infinitely more important to him than being exposed to the elements.

Then again, those elements seemed to be almost inherent in his nature. As warm as he made her feel inside, his reception to her was a bit chilly.

“Beauty can be deceiving,” he said, turning toward her. “This is supposed to turn into a full-force blizzard before the night is over. In this case, beauty can be downright dangerous.”

When he turned, his face was thrown into the light tumbling from a nearby window, and Renee noticed again what an exceedingly handsome man he was. He was quite a bit older than she—probably in his mid-thirties. The light gilded his light brown hair—hair that was longer than one might expect on a man suited to suits. His eyes were pale brown, and his mouth…

She bit back a sigh, as she always did when her gaze settled inevitably on Garrett’s mouth. His mouth was at once soft and fierce, inviting and wary, luscious and forbidding. Much like the man himself, she thought.

She shrugged. “There’s no reason you can’t enjoy it now, though,” she said, clutching her coat more tightly around her. “Seems harmless enough for the time being.”

“The operative word here being ‘seems,’” he said.

She smiled. “Or maybe the operative words would be ‘for the time being.’”

“Or maybe it’s the ‘harmless’ part I should be worrying about,” he said. “Maybe that’s what’s really so deceiving.”

Renee eyed him thoughtfully. “Something tells me we’re having two totally different conversations here.”

He chuckled, but the sound was less than happy. “Yeah. Story of my life.”

The moment he uttered the words, Garrett Fortune realized they were stained with bitterness. And his new companion noticed, too, because her smile—a smile that had nearly blinded him, so dazzling had it been—immediately fell. And when it did, suddenly, somehow, he felt as if a door slammed shut deep inside his soul.

Man, his emotions must be rubbed raw tonight if he was reacting like this to a woman like Renee Riley. Oh, sure, she was cute and everything, even seemed kind of sweet, from what he’d seen of her at last night’s rehearsal and tonight’s wedding. But harmless? Not bloody likely. Not to him. She was exactly the kind of woman he knew to avoid.

God, he hated weddings. Why hadn’t he made up some lame excuse to give Mac—like he was bleeding from a mortal wound or something—and just stayed home?

His cool reception didn’t deter Renee. She covered the distance between them in a half-dozen easy strides. Then she took up a place beside him at the wall, adopting a stance much like his. Well, except that her stance was nearly a foot shorter than his, and she probably weighed a good hundred pounds less.

Garrett fought back a smile at the sight of her and enjoyed an idle sip of his champagne. He frowned when he noted her attire. Of course, she was the maid of honor, he reminded himself. But the least she could have done was put on a decent pair of shoes before coming out in the cold. The snow was only a few inches deep on the terrace, but it easily brushed her feet where her shoes ended and her stockings began. At this rate, she’d be taking home frostbite as a wedding favor.

Dim debutante, he thought. Then again, at least she was wearing a coat, which was more than he could say for some people standing on this terrace. But he was bad-tempered and self-destructive, right? Everybody said so. He was entitled.

“So…what did you think of the wedding?” she asked, clearly striving to end what was fast becoming an awkward moment.

Relieved at the introduction of small talk, Garrett took another sip of his wine. “I thought the wedding was beautiful,” he said amiably, “especially for one thrown together so quickly.”

“Yeah, me, too,” she agreed as she hugged her coat to herself again. “Mollie did a wonderful job. Of course, she’s a friend of Kelly’s so I’m sure she added a lot of extra special touches.”

“And I also think marriage is a complete waste of time and a total farce,” Garrett added as if she hadn’t spoken. Funny, he wasn’t sure when, exactly, he’d decided to say such a thing aloud.

His companion blinked in surprise at his announcement before expelling a soft sound of disbelief. “Well, gosh, don’t hide your feelings,” she said dryly. “If you want to voice an opinion, just spit it out.”

He smiled at that, then uttered another rough chuckle. “Sorry,” he replied, even though he felt not one iota of regret. “That just kind of popped out.”

“Yeah, I’ll say it did.”

He sighed and turned, leaning his shoulder against the wall so that he could observe her more intently. She was young, probably still in college. Pretty, though, in an uptown-girl kind of way. Dark curls tumbled riotously about her face, falling low over pale green eyes encircled by long, sooty lashes. The cold air had stained her cheeks with red, and her lips… He bit back a restless sound. Her lips, too, were touched with crimson, though whether the color resulted from cosmetics or the cold, he honestly couldn’t have said.

If he kissed her, he bet he could find out for sure.

Startled by the thought, Garrett pushed it away and forced himself to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I’ve just seen too many people get married for the wrong reasons, that’s all,” he said by way of an explanation. “Then things start going bad, and a messy divorce clinches all the nasty feelings.”

“Gee, you sound like you’re speaking from experience,” Renee said quietly.

For a moment, he wondered where she got off making such a personal observation about someone she barely knew. Then he realized that he’d been the one to start it. He had no one to blame but himself.

So he replied frankly. “Maybe that’s because I am.”

Renee eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, but instead of pursuing his confession, she asked, “Are you suggesting that Kelly and Mac married for the wrong reasons?”

Garrett shrugged. “Well, it’s not exactly a love match when a man marries a woman who got herself knocked up by his little brother, is it?”

“Excuse me,” she said indignantly, quick to jump to her friend’s defense, “but a woman doesn’t get herself pregnant all alone, you know. Chad Fortune—that jerk—had a little something to do with the whole thing.”

Garrett expelled an impatient sigh. “Yeah, and now Mac is the one paying for it.”

“You make it sound like he was forced to marry Kelly against his will.”

“Wasn’t he?”

“Of course not. He was the one who made the offer.”

“And she was the one who jumped at the chance to be a Fortune wife.”

“Oh, come on,” Renee said, straightening to her full height of what couldn’t possibly be more than five feet four inches, clearly spoiling for a fight.

Garrett smiled the most predatory smile he could summon and straightened to his own six-feet-plus, fully ready to take her on.

But she didn’t back down. “The baby that Kelly is carrying is a Fortune. Why should she deny the little nipper its birthright?”

“Its birthright is Chad Fortune, not Mac,” Garrett pointed out. “But Chad’s always been good at leaving a mess for Mac to clean up.”

“A mess?” she echoed incredulously. “That’s what you call a pregnant woman who’s been abandoned by the baby’s father? A pregnant woman who was recently attacked, by unknown assailants, no less, and needs someone to keep an eye on her now? You think that’s a mess?”

He frowned. “You know what I meant.”

She nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately I do. You’re one of those snotty rich guys who think the only thing women want out of them is their money, and that said women will stop at nothing to get it. You never look at the big picture.”

“And you,” he countered, hating himself for rising so quickly to the bait, even if what she said did cut way too close to home, “are doubtless one of those greedy opportunists who think snagging a rich husband will insure a cushy life of ease where she’ll never have to lift a finger.”

She gaped at him, as if she were trying to decide whether to defend herself or return to defending her friend. Ultimately, gallantly, she chose the latter. “I think you’re wrong about Mac and Kelly. I think they make a good match.”

“They don’t love each other,” Garrett said.

She seemed to think seriously for a moment before replying, “Maybe, in the long run, that will make things easier for them. Maybe not having love in their relationship will make their union stronger.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Funny, but somehow, I had you pegged as the more romantic type. Hearts and flowers and love forever after. All that mushy stuff.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, well, maybe you had me pegged wrong. Just because they didn’t marry for love doesn’t mean the commitment between Mac and Kelly isn’t strong. They had more to think about than love. They have a responsibility and obligation to an unborn child.”

She seemed struck by her own comment and lapsed into a thoughtful silence for another moment before continuing in a voice of enlightenment, “In fact, maybe it’s commitment that’s really most important in a marriage, you know? Not love, not passion but…responsibility. Obligation. Doing the right thing, I mean.”

“Gee, keep saying it over and over like that, and maybe eventually you’ll start to believe it,” Garrett said wryly, wondering why she was trying to convince herself of something even he could see she didn’t truly believe.

“No, really,” she insisted, glancing up. But she focused on something over his left shoulder and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “For centuries, marriage was used to fatten family fortunes and further political ambitions. Love never figured into it at all. And a lot of those marriages were probably just as enduring as the ones founded on love—more enduring, even. Today, still, there are probably lots of people who get married for reasons other than love.”

“Gee, you really think so?” Garrett asked dryly, knowing she didn’t think it for a moment. In spite of his conviction, however, she nodded vigorously. A little too vigorously, he thought.

“Yeah,” she said halfheartedly. “Probably.”

He nodded, too, deciding that if Renee Riley wanted to live in a world where obligation and responsibility were more important than romantic love, he sure as hell wasn’t going to dissuade her of the notion. Why should he, when he was of exactly the same opinion?

Still, for some reason, it bothered him to see a kid like her being jaded so young—especially when she probably hadn’t had a chance yet to be beaten down by life. Because everybody should get beaten down by life once in a while, right? What would be the fun otherwise? Sheesh.

Naturally, Garrett’s jadedness came from experience. He’d graduated at the top of his class from the school of hard knocks, by God, and he wore his diploma around his neck where everybody could see it. At this point in her life, Renee Riley wouldn’t even qualify for a partial scholarship to his alma mater. She was just too ingenuous-looking, too fresh, too seemingly nice a kid. And he found himself wondering what on earth had made her lose her romanticism so early on.

Ah, well. None of his business. He’d never see her again after tonight. So if she wanted to think there was a hope in hell of Kelly and Mac living happily ever after just because they’d made a commitment to each other, then Garrett didn’t see the harm.

She leaned against the wall and stared into space, as if she were giving serious thought to a matter that might have global repercussions. Garrett was about to say something that might alleviate the heaviness of the mood when, below them, the city erupted in celebration. Car horns blared, people shouted, and faintly, from somewhere far off, the soft strains of “Auld Lang Syne” crept through the stillness of the cold night air.

“Must be midnight,” he said, removing his hand from his pocket to verify his assumption with a glance at his watch. Sure enough, the second hand was just leaving the other two, which remained perched at twelve o’clock. “To the new year,” he added.

He smiled at Renee and lifted his half-full glass of champagne in a toast before moving it to his lips for a celebratory sip. As he lowered it, he realized she had nothing with which to welcome in the new year, so he extended the glass toward her in a silent offer.

After a moment’s hesitation and a brief shrug, she accepted it, tipping it toward her mouth—that red, ripe, luscious mouth—to enjoy a taste of the wine. After a single quick sip, she lifted it a second time, filling her mouth more generously. When she held the glass out to Garrett, he noted a perfect crescent-shaped stain of red on the rim where her lips had been. And deep down inside him, something tightened, raw and fierce.

“Happy New Year, Renee,” he said quietly, smiling as he took the glass from her fingers.

She smiled back. “Happy New Year, Garrett.”

And then, because she seemed to expect more—or, perhaps, because he wanted more—he dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.

Just like that.

One little kiss, he told himself. Just a brief brush of his mouth over hers, to see if her lips were as soft and warm as they appeared to be. But, too late, he realized a single, idle caress was in no way enough to satisfy what suddenly became a deep hunger for the closeness of another human being. So instead of pulling away, Garrett took a step toward her, circling one arm around her waist to draw her closer still, at once fearful and hopeful that she would push him away.

But she didn’t push him away.

Although she pulled her head back for a moment, fixing her gaze on his in a silent question, she neither said nor did anything to discourage him. On the contrary, she opened one hand over his chest and curled her fingers into his lapel, as if she wanted to pull him closer. So Garrett lowered his head to kiss her once more. He brushed his mouth lightly over hers once, twice, three times, breathless, brief little kisses that meant nothing, nothing at all.

Not until Renee kissed him back.

Kissed him back with a tentative, teasing touch that unleashed something deep down inside him that galloped quickly to the surface and made him hungry for more. So, without thinking about what he was doing, Garrett tightened his hold on Renee and pressed his mouth more possessively over hers, covering it, filling it, plundering it.

For a moment, she went limp in his arms, completely surrendering to his raw invasion. Then, just when he thought she would join in the fun, she jerked her mouth from his and hastily pushed him away. “I have to go,” she said raggedly, avoiding his eyes. “I’ve been gone a long time. My father must be waiting for me, worried about me.” And then, without a further word—or even a glance over her shoulder—she was gone.

As he watched her disappear through the sliding glass doors on the other side of the terrace, Garrett stood silent amid a swirl of snow, wondering what the hell had just happened.

Helplessly, he lifted a hand to his mouth and brushed his fingertips lightly over the lips Renee Riley had warmed with her mouth. Then he gazed at the perfect red stain of lipstick on his champagne flute. Without questioning his motives—or his sanity, for that matter—he turned the glass to place his own mouth over exactly that same spot and downed the rest of its contents in one long swallow.

And he decided that, as new years went, this one wasn’t starting off well at all.

Two

The first week in April found Renee Riley feeling confused, agitated, anxious and seriously questioning her choice of a wedding dress. Because the one she’d selected for her impending—or rather upcoming, she hastily corrected herself—wedding to Lyle Norton suddenly seemed somewhat…inappropriate.

It had been created from roughly a bazillion yards of delicate white lace and was decorated with hundreds of seed pearls and scores of tiny white satin roses. Its train went on for all eternity, making it the perfect dress for a bride who was giddy with joy and anticipation at the prospect of joining herself to a man with whom she was deeply and irrevocably in love.

In other words, it wasn’t Renee’s cup of tea at all.

She sighed heavily as she gazed at her reflection in the cheval mirror that mocked her from the corner of her bedroom. For perhaps the twentieth time since she’d picked up the dress from the seamstress that morning, she held it up before her and swallowed hard against the nausea that rolled through her stomach. Her wedding was barely a week away, and Renee still couldn’t quite remember how she’d agreed to the arrangement. Especially since it had been barely three months since Lyle—at least she had managed to finally stop calling him Mr. Norton—had approached her father about the merger.

Union, she corrected herself. What she and Lyle were undertaking was a union, not a merger. And her wedding was upcoming, not impending. Goodness, she was going to have to work on her semantics if she had any hope of making this farce—or rather, endeavor—succeed.

Her groom, naturally, was experiencing none of her misgivings. Of course, he’d been so busy with work lately that he’d scarcely been around for any of the wedding preparations. Nevertheless, he was delighted at the prospect of his and Renee’s impending—upcoming, she reminded herself again—nuptials.

She expelled another heavy sigh as she folded the dress in half, held it away and gazed at her reflection without the garment. She looked pale with fatigue. She looked worried. She looked scared. Doubtless because she was all of those things.

So much for her father’s suggestion that she and Lyle make it a long engagement so she could get to know her prospective husband better. Somehow—Renee was still at a loss as to quite how—Lyle had talked her into scheduling the wedding for the second weekend in April. It was, he’d told her, the best time for him, businesswise, because the rest of his year was booked solid with professional obligations. But Renee had hardly seen him during those three all-too-brief months, because that time had been booked solid with professional obligations, too.

And even on those few occasions when they had managed to find time together, Lyle was frequently called away early to attend to—what else?—professional obligations. As a result, she’d found herself feeling about as familiar and as comfortable with her husband-to-be as she would feel explaining the particulars of quantum physics.

She was also having serious second thoughts about this whole fiasco—or rather, marriage. Yes, she and Lyle did get along fine, even if they had yet to share much more than a few less-than-explosive kisses. And yes, her father was delighted at the prospect of hanging on to Riley Communications, Inc. And yes, Renee’s future did look bright and promising to any casual observer, even if, to her, it was a tad lacking in, oh…life.

She should be happy, she told herself. She was engaged to a handsome, successful man who seemed to care for her, even if he wasn’t exactly the passionate, cherish-is-the-word sort of mate that most women—other women, women who weren’t Renee Riley—dreamed about.

She and Lyle were compatible, she reminded herself. They’d agreed on nearly everything they’d discussed—though they had yet to discuss much at any great depth. Still, they were able to carry on conversations that, if not exactly impassioned and important, were lively and interesting. Well, sort of lively, anyway. Sort of interesting.

And who needed romance, huh? Not her. No way. Why spend the rest of her life searching for something that probably didn’t exist anyway, and even if it did exist, probably didn’t live up to what everybody made it out to be.

If she passed up this chance with Lyle, she might never find another man who suited her. She might wind up utterly and totally alone. She might die a virgin—not that she really wanted to think too much about sex where Lyle was concerned, not until she had to. And as if all that weren’t enough, she would end up a shriveled, bad-tempered old maid, and she still would have caused her father to lose Riley Communications in the process. Who needed to take a chance like that? Not Renee. Uh-uh. No, sir.

Really, she thought, she wasn’t likely to do better for herself than Lyle. She was the envy of several—well, at least two—of her friends. Hey, she was probably—no, certainly—the envy of the majority of young women in Minneapolis. She was lucky to have Lyle. He was a wonderful man. Her life with him was bound to be really, truly very…good.

Gee, keeping saying it over and over like that, and maybe eventually you’ll start to believe it.

Garrett Fortune’s words haunted Renee, just as they’d haunted her repeatedly over the past three months. Just as Garrett himself had haunted her. She still couldn’t imagine what had come over her on New Year’s Eve to let herself be kissed by the man. To kiss him in return. She’d just been so surprised when he did it. One minute, he’d been telling her how doomed Kelly and Mac were, and the next, he’d been kissing her as if she were the answer to every prayer he’d sent skyward.

And what a kiss. Kisses, she corrected herself. Plural. There had been nearly a half dozen of them. She knew that, because, as insensate as she’d been at the time, she’d counted each and every one of them. And even if they had been chaste and soft and undemanding—well, sort of chaste, sort of soft but in no way undemanding—the touch of Garrett’s mouth on hers had shaken Renee right down to the furthest reaches of her soul. In those few times their lips had touched, she’d experienced a shudder of arousal unlike anything she’d ever known.

Fireworks. Mystery. Magic. All of those things had been present in that one embrace. And all she’d been able to do was open her hand over his chest in a silent request for more.

But just as Garrett had lowered his head to hers to give her more, something had halted Renee—she still wasn’t sure what. A sense of self-preservation, perhaps. Some vague, ill-defined knowledge that if she kissed him again, there would be no turning back. It made no sense for her to have such a reaction to a veritable stranger, but there it was nonetheless. Something in Garrett had spoken to something in her. Something dark, something raw, something needy. Something she knew she’d be much better off not exploring.

Not with a man who hadn’t even bothered to call her to see where those few little kisses might lead. And certainly not with a man who’d said flat out that he thought marriage was a complete waste of time and a total farce.

Unfortunately, as unwilling as Renee was to explore the feelings he’d roused in her, she still hadn’t been able to forget about them. Or about Garrett. He’d crept into her thoughts when she least expected and had wandered into her dreams at night. And worse, when he did so, he had the very troubling tendency to be at least partially naked.

And although three months had passed since their brief interlude, she could still feel the soft brush of his mouth over hers, could still taste the faint flavor of champagne on his lips, could still inhale the dusky male scent of him that had surrounded her. Those three months might as well have been three minutes, so vivid was her memory of that night.

And it was that memory, she was sure, that kept making her question the wisdom of her impending—upcoming—wedding. Because less than an evening in Garrett’s presence superseded months in Lyle’s. When Renee thought about happily ever afters these days, Lyle was nowhere to be found. Instead, a whiskey-eyed man with pale brown hair—a man who had absolutely no interest in marriage—was the one who appeared in Renee’s plans for a future.

And that simply would not do.

She told herself she was totally distorting her memory of Garrett Fortune, that no one could possibly be as wonderful as she was remembering him. He was little more than a stranger. The two of them had spoken for less than an hour. The kisses they had shared had been no more than a celebratory welcome to the New Year.

It had not been the earth-shattering, mind-scrambling, libido-twisting experience she kept recalling. It hadn’t. And that single incident certainly wasn’t something that should influence her decision to marry Lyle.

She reminded herself again that she and her fiancé—she ignored the roll of nausea that swept through her as the word formed in her head—were a good…well, a good enough…match. By mutual agreement—at least, Renee was pretty sure the agreement had been mutual… She’d certainly been all for it herself—they’d agreed to wait until their wedding night to make love. But even though there were no fireworks in their relationship—yet, she told herself—even though there was no mystery, no magic—yet—Renee could live her life quite…quite adequately with Lyle. She didn’t need romance. She didn’t need love. She didn’t.

She didn’t.

Although she liked to think she was a woman of the nineties, a woman who made up her own mind and planned her own destiny, she was old-fashioned enough to believe in fulfilling obligations, too. And she did have an obligation to her father, one that was none too small.

He’d put so much of his life on hold so she would be happy. He’d never remarried, because he’d worried that such a relationship might somehow leave Renee feeling edged out of his life. He’d forgone vacations because she’d been in school and unable to accompany him. He’d worked long hours to build a business that would insure a future for her. He’d spent a considerable amount of money on private schools, tutors, riding lessons, piano lessons, etiquette lessons. He’d made certain Renee had the best of everything.

Everything Reginald Riley had done since her birth had been with his daughter’s welfare first and foremost in his mind. Renee couldn’t possibly betray him now, couldn’t possibly risk his losing everything he’d spent decades working to build. There was no way she could do that to him.

Or to herself, she reminded herself ruthlessly. It wasn’t just her father’s welfare at stake. Renee, too, stood to lose a lifetime of memories and mementos, of sentiment and souvenirs. Not to mention sacrificing the only way of life she’d ever known. Certainly she could get by without money and a social position. But she really would hate to see it all go.

In frustration, she raked a hand through her tangle of curls, wincing when she snagged one in the gaudy engagement ring Lyle had given her. Carefully, she freed her hair and gazed at the dazzling, exquisite, four-carat diamond marquise.

Never big on jewelry unless it was of the antique variety, Renee had picked out a simple, half-carat solitaire perched in a silver setting embellished with marcasite. But Lyle had laughed good-naturedly at her choice, assuring her there was no reason for her to “settle” for something so small and unassuming, not when she was about to marry Lyle Norton. So he had bought this ring for her instead. The gem was brilliant. Beautiful. Breathtaking.

And Renee felt guilty as sin wearing it.

It just wasn’t right, she told herself. Not the ring, not the dress, not her feelings, not Lyle. She sighed heavily as the doubts threatened to overcome her again, closed her eyes at the waves of uncertainty that tried to shatter her fragile conviction that marrying Lyle was the Right Thing to do. And as always happened when she felt such a tremor in her convictions, Renee knew there was just one thing for her to do.

Get a facial.

Oh, what the heck, and a manicure, too, since she’d been so good about kicking the nail-biting habit. A facial and manicure were always good antidotes to anxiety and indecision. A trip to the spa was just about the only way she knew to relax, if even for a short time.

Carefully, she hung the wedding dress on its hanger and zipped it into the nylon bag to protect it. After a quick check in the mirror of her lavender velvet tunic and leggings, she made her way to her car.

The spa was surprisingly busy for a Monday afternoon. Although she got in for her manicure right away, thanks to a last-minute cancellation, without an appointment for her facial, Renee was directed to the waiting room for what she knew could be a rather lengthy wait. She knew that because she’d shown up without an appointment lots of times over the past three months.

Unperturbed, however—hey, where else did she have to be?—she settled back in her chair, gazing at the pale pastels and silk flowers that adorned the room, tuning her ear to the muted strains of a delicate Bach piano concerto. And she tried to find some peace of mind in the soft beauty that surrounded her. But when even the soothing environment of the spa’s waiting room couldn’t calm her, she closed her eyes and tried to think of something—anything—besides her impend—uh, upcoming wedding.

Unfortunately, as usually happened, the moment she cleared her mind, Garrett entered it. Oh, well. At least, this time, he wasn’t naked. Well, not too naked. She remembered him the way he’d been on New Year’s Eve—with just a few more buttons unbuttoned than had actually been unbuttoned at the time—heard his low, masculine laughter, felt the brush of his warm, rough skin against her own, recalled the heat and scent of him as he lowered his head to hers again and again and—

“Renee? Renee Riley? Is that you?”

Her eyes snapped open at the summons, and the heated images of Garrett dissolved in a fine, fleeting fog. Immediately, though, another member of the fabulous Fortune family replaced him—Kate Fortune, the matriarch in charge of the whole shebang, Fortune Cosmetics as well as the Fortune clan.

“Hi, Mrs. Fortune,” Renee said with a heartfelt smile, genuinely happy to see the other woman.

She liked Kate immensely, having met her on a number of occasions, usually when she was with Kelly, who worked as Kate’s social secretary. Well, who used to work as Kate’s social secretary, at least. These days, of course, Kelly had her hands full with almost-two-month-old Annie—not to mention Mac. But that was another story.

“Oh, please,” Kate said with a smile as she folded herself into the chair beside Renee’s, “how many times do I have to tell you—call me Kate.”

Renee smiled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Kate shook her head ruefully, but smiled. “So how are you, dear? Kelly tells me you’re getting married this month.”

Another roll of nausea swept through Renee’s belly. Striving for an enthusiasm she was nowhere close to feeling, forcing a smile that felt anything but happy, she said, “Um, yeah, as a matter of fact, I am, uh…getting married. This month. Yepper. Getting married. That’s me.”

Kate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Well, my goodness, don’t be so overjoyed. That smile is about to blind me, and you’re making a spectacle of yourself with that dance of joy.”

Renee did manage a chuckle at that. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…”

“What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Kate eyed her thoughtfully. “Kelly seems to be of the opinion that the man you’re planning to marry isn’t quite…oh, shall we say…Mr. Right.”

“Well, who’s to say what constitutes Mr. Right. Right?” She forced another chuckle that she hoped sounded carefree and gave a toss of her head that had always gone a long way toward convincing people she was completely consumed by joie de vivre. Whatever that was.

But Kate Fortune was much too perceptive to buy the act. Renee had long ago gotten the feeling that Kate saw way more than people wanted her to see. And there was a keenness to the way she was eyeing Renee that was more than a little unsettling. As if she were making plans—big plans—for her immediate future.

“Kelly was right,” Kate said softly. “You’re about to make a terrible mistake, aren’t you, dear?”

Renee gaped at her. Certainly Kelly had often enough criticized her decision to marry Lyle, telling Renee she should wait for the real thing—true love—regardless of her obligation to her father. As if Kelly had any right to make judgments on that score, seeing as how she’d married for reasons only marginally better than Renee’s. In spite of the reasons for it, though, Kelly’s marriage was turning out to be a better arrangement than anyone had thought it would be. She and Mac had come to truly care for each other.

It was something that had served to hearten Renee over the last few months, allowed her to tell herself that she and Lyle could make a go of it in the long run. Maybe, in time, the two of them really would have feelings of affection for each other, as Kelly and Mac did. Maybe. In time. She supposed it was possible.

But then, theoretically speaking, it was also possible that the earth might go spinning out of its orbit any minute now and crash into the sun.

So all Renee could manage in response to Kate’s admonition was a softly uttered, “Excuse me?”

“Kelly’s worried about you, dear,” Kate said. “As any good friend would be. She’s afraid you’re making a colossal error in not marrying for love, one you’ll live to regret.”

Before Renee had a chance to object, Kate, evidently having read her thoughts, hurried on. “Yes, I know, Kelly was in much the same boat, having married for reasons other than love herself. Which is why she knows what’s in store for you if you make the wrong decision. Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

Renee knew that was the last thing she could do. Kate was a nice woman, and she seemed to genuinely care about what Renee was going through, but this wasn’t a conversation to have with someone who wasn’t a close friend or family member. Kate was a local icon and a massively successful businesswoman, the last kind of person Renee would think of turning to when it came to girl talk.

In spite of that, however, she heard herself say, “Mrs. Fortune, what do you think is more important? Family obligation or true love?”

Kate offered her a knowing smile. “Well, certainly it’s no secret how important I think family is. But that true love business, well… There’s a reason poets and troubadours have stayed in business for thousands of years.”

Renee thought about that, then said, “But lawyers and accountants have stayed in business for a long time, too, working out the details of marriages that take place for economic and social reasons.”

“True,” Kate conceded. “But they don’t have as much of that kind of work as they used to.”

“Neither do the poets and troubadours,” Renee pointed out.

Kate didn’t disagree. What she did say was, “You don’t love the man you’re going to marry, do you?”

“No,” Renee replied without hesitation, knowing there was no point in denying that. “I don’t love him. But he’s a good man, and the arrangement will benefit my family.”

Kate nodded. “And you think that’s very important.”

“Yes. I do. And in time, it’s possible that I could come to love him.” Unfortunately, Renee didn’t utter the words with quite the conviction she had hoped to. She didn’t quite feel the conviction she had hoped to, either.

“Is your obligation to your family more important than your own happiness?” Kate asked.

That, unfortunately, Renee couldn’t answer. Because deep down, she did not know the answer. So she remained silent.

Kate watched her closely for a long time, then reached for her handbag. As she opened it and searched through its contents, she told Renee, “I think you have a lot of thinking to do, and I think you need some time—and some distance—that would allow you to do it.”

Renee shook her head. “I don’t have any time. The wedding is only a week away.”

Without looking up, Kate told her, “All kinds of things can happen in a week, Renee. All kinds of things.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Fortune, I—”

“Aha,” Kate said, cutting her off. “Here they are.” With a dramatic jangle, she withdrew a ring of keys and searched it quickly before deftly removing one. Then, with what Renee could only call a twinkle in her eye, she extended it.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“The key to happiness,” Kate said cryptically.

Renee smiled nervously. “I don’t understand.”

“You need some time to think,” the other woman reiterated, “and you need a quiet place to do it. I just happen to have such a place at my disposal. I’ve used it myself on a number of occasions when I’ve needed to get away to gather my thoughts and make big decisions. And I frequently loan it to friends who find themselves in a similar position.”

“And where would this place be?” Renee asked warily.

Kate smiled. “Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?” Renee echoed incredulously. “I can’t go to Wyoming. I’m getting married in a week.”

Kate arched one elegant brow inquisitively. “Are you, dear?”

Renee swallowed hard and somehow forced herself to nod.

“Then consider this my wedding present to you,” Kate said. “Some time away before the big event, to rest and relax and prepare yourself for the lifelong journey that awaits you upon your return.”

Oh, God, Renee thought. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. A lifelong journey.

“Mrs. Fortune, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“But what, dear?”

Renee sighed fitfully. “I can’t go. I have too many things to do here.”

“Such as?”

“Well, there’s…um…”

Actually, even though the wedding was only a week away, there really wasn’t that much for her to do. Lyle had insisted on a small wedding, because a large one would be too time-consuming and his work hours would prohibit him from participating. Renee hadn’t disagreed. Their guest list barely numbered two dozen. They were planning to marry at his mother’s house, and Mrs. Norton was taking care of all the arrangements. The caterer, musicians, photographer, florist, everyone was lined up and ready to go. All that was left was for everyone to show up on time, Renee included.

Now why had she thought that? she wondered. Of course she would be showing up on time. All Mrs. Fortune was saying was that she should get away from the stress of wedding planning for a little while, to relax and enjoy her final days as a single woman. And why did the phrase “final days” have such a fatal ring to it, as if she’d been bound over for execution?

Renee knew she could use a small rest—even a short one. She did feel more exhausted lately than she should, and entering a marriage fatigued wasn’t a good idea. And what better way to rest than by traveling to a place where she didn’t know anyone, where no one knew her, where she would have no obligations, no responsibilities, no requirements save taking it easy?

She didn’t have to stay long, she told herself. Only a few days, long enough to reassure herself that she was making the right decision. Because marrying Lyle, she was sure, was indeed the right decision.

The timing of Kate’s offer was actually very good. Lyle was out of town again—on business, naturally—and wouldn’t be returning until the day before the wedding. The rest would do Renee good. She hadn’t been sleeping well at all, thanks to all those dreams about Garrett.

Without realizing she had agreed to take Kate up on the offer, Renee found herself reaching slowly for the key the woman held out to her. But before she could grasp it, Kate released it, and the key fell easily right into the palm of Renee’s hand.

“You’ll be going to the Final Destination Ranch in Last Resort, Wyoming,” Kate said with a smile.

Gee, could there possibly be anything more symbolic than that? Renee wondered.

“There’s a little guest cabin on the property that’s removed from the main house,” Kate continued. “It’s private and quiet, and perfect for your needs. I’ll call the manager this afternoon and tell him to expect you this evening.”

“This evening?” Renee echoed. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly leave today. I have to go home and pack, tell my father and Lyle where I’m going and—”

“I’ll tell your father,” Kate volunteered. “It’s been ages since I spoke to him, and this will give me the perfect excuse to call. Then he can tell your fiancé.”

Renee opened her mouth to object, but Kate hurried on before she had a chance.

“And you need pack only the barest essentials. Everything you could ever need or want in life is on that ranch. Trust me.”

“But I have to make travel arrangements and—”

“You can take the Fortune jet,” Kate interrupted breezily, as if she were offering the use of a bicycle and nothing more. She rose from her chair, evidently forgetting that she had come to the spa for some reason other than taking charge of Renee’s life. “I’ll call and take care of all the arrangements for you. Just be at the Fortune hangar at the airport in two hours—I’ll write down the directions for you—and you can be at the ranch in time for dinner.”

She withdrew a pad and pen from her handbag, quickly jotted some instructions, then tore the slip of paper off and handed to Renee. “And, Renee,” she added with a sweet smile, “do enjoy yourself, dear.”

Three

“Reggie? Kate Fortune calling. It’s been ages since we spoke—how are you?”

“Kate! It has been a long time. How nice to hear from you. I’m doing well. You?”

“Couldn’t be better. Listen, I have to talk to you about Renee.”

“What about Renee?”

“I ran into her this morning, and we had a very interesting conversation.”

“Did she tell you she’s getting married this month? To Lyle Norton, no less?”

“Oh, I can just hear the pride and joy in your voice when you say that, Reggie. Yes, we did discuss the fact that she’s getting married soon.”

“I couldn’t be happier about the arrangement.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet you couldn’t. That Lyle Norton is something, all right. But listen, here’s the thing. Renee looked awfully tired to me so I offered her a place to retreat to for a few days, so she could get a little rest.”

“Retreat to? What do you mean, ‘retreat to?’”

“Just that. A small retreat I have at my disposal, a place where I go for a little while when I need to rest or sort things out.”

“Sort things out?”

“You know…make big decisions, think about the repercussions of my actions, that kind of thing.”

“Think about the reper—”

“And I gave the key to Renee and told her to take a few days off from the wedding plans, so that she could get some rest and clear her head.”

“Clear her—”

“She won’t be gone long. But circumstances being what they were, she had to leave in a hurry.”

“And just what were the circum—”

“So I told her I’d call you and let you know where she is so you wouldn’t be worried.”

“And just where is she?”

“Wyoming.”

“Wyoming?”

“If you need her, call me, and I’ll get in touch with her and tell her to contact you. And don’t worry about her—she’s by no means alone where she is. If she needs anything—anything at all—there’s someone there to take care of her.”

“Kate, what are you up to?”

“Up to? Me? Why, nothing. But just between you and me, Reggie, I think if Faye were alive to see what you’ve done, she’d be appalled.”

“What I’ve done? What are you talking about?”

“Arranging a marriage for your daughter this way. It’s archaic. Faye would have a fit if she were here to see it. She was always such a romantic dear. You were, too, once upon a time. You should be ashamed of yourself now, for making Renee feel as if she has an obligation to marry a man she doesn’t love simply to save a business you’ve managed badly.”

“Kate, this is none of your—”

“Renee will be fine. You needn’t worry. Not about her welfare, at any rate. She’s perfectly safe. She’ll be home in a few days. You have my word. But right now, I think she needs some time to herself. Alone. Well, pretty much alone, anyway.”

“What she needs is—”

“I’ll call her and let her know I spoke to you. Ta ta, Reggie. Do have a nice day.”

With a purr of delight, Kate Fortune dropped the telephone receiver into its cradle, folded her arms over the top of her desk and sighed contentedly. There. Let Reggie Riley stew over that for a few days. See how he liked having control taken out of his hands for a change.

Honestly. Sending your own daughter on a guilt trip and making her feel obligated to marry a man to whom she was completely unsuited—not to mention a man she didn’t love and who didn’t love her in return—just so you could save your floundering company. Reggie really should be ashamed of himself. Faye Riley must be spinning in her grave over this one. There was no way Kate could turn her back on something as wrong as all this.

Renee Riley was a sweet, kind child who deserved better. And if Kate had any say in the matter, better was exactly what she was going to get. Thank goodness Kelly had seen fit to tell Kate what was going on.

She glanced at her watch and grinned with much satisfaction. Right about now, Garrett would be outside the main house on the Final Destination, taking care of the numerous afternoon chores that never seemed to end. There was no way he’d be able to hear his telephone ringing. So Kate picked up the phone again and began to punch the first of eleven long-distance numbers that would contact him.

And when his answering machine picked up at the other end, she said, “Oh, Garrett, dear, you know how much I hate to talk to your machine. Ah, well, there’s nothing else for it, I suppose. I’m sorry for calling at the last minute this way, but I’ve been absolutely swamped with work. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sending a friend of mine your way who’ll be staying at the cabin for a few days. I do hope you’ll make her feel welcome. She has some extremely serious life choices to work out….”

“Aunt Kate, I swear to God, I’ll get you for this.”

Garrett Fortune uttered the words aloud—even though there was no one around for miles to hear them—and glared at the answering machine on his desk as if it were to blame for the message he’d just played from his great-aunt. The last thing he wanted or needed was the arrival of some flaky grande dame of Minneapolis society. There was no way he had time to play houseboy to one of Kate’s high-society friends.

He didn’t care if she did own the damned cabin. The ranch was his. He’d received the deed just last week.

Of course, there was nothing he could do about it now, seeing as how the woman would be arriving in…oh, about fifteen minutes.

Extremely difficult life choices, he repeated to himself, disgusted. Yeah, right. The only kind of life choice his great aunt’s friends probably ever had to make was whether to serve bouillabaisse or bisque for an appetizer.

He could picture his guest already, some high-society matron with overly coiffed hair and overly manicured nails, trailing a half dozen oversize suitcases and at least that many of those irritating undersize dogs in her wake. She’d be suffering from some major trauma—her daughter was marrying a gas pump jockey, for example, or her son had decided to study hairdressing instead of medicine—and she’d be beside herself with self-pity because her life was going to hell in a handbasket. Then she’d start calling Garrett at the main house day and night, as if he were Julie-your-cruise-director and room service at the Ritz-Carlton all rolled into one.

Damn. This was to have been the week Garrett started turning what had always been Kate’s weekend getaway into a working ranch. For too long the Final Destination’s potential had been completely wasted. Hundreds of acres of prime grazing land had provided little more than a beautiful backdrop for a house that had served as a vacation home for the Fortune family and sundry friends.

When Kate had set Garrett up to manage the place a little over a year ago, he’d looked forward to finally having the chance to install all the improvements necessary to make it the working ranch he’d envisioned since he was a kid. But wanting to have a real stake in the operation, Garrett had offered to buy the place from her instead. Kate had agreed to go along with the deal, provided she kept the guest cabin and surrounding property.

And now Garrett was about to see a childhood dream come true. He would make the Final Destination a ranch that could turn a tidy little profit year after year. Eventually, he planned to retire from what was already just part-time legal consulting to run the place full-time. He was itching to get started on his improvements. The last thing he needed this week was a houseguest ruining what little free time he’d planned to give himself.

“Dammit,” he muttered to no one in particular. Then, just for good measure, he kicked the desk.

At least the woman would be staying at the cabin, he thought, which would put a good half mile between them. Maybe he had enough time to rig the telephone so she wouldn’t be able to call the main house during her stay.

The crunch of gravel in the driveway made Garrett’s plan evaporate, and he prepared himself to be overrun by expensive luggage, killer lapdogs and a woman more suited to the Four Seasons Hotel than a Wyoming ranch. But when he opened the front door, what greeted him bore no resemblance to any of his ideas. Because there, against the backdrop of a wide-open sky stained pink and purple and orange in the wake of a setting sun, was a blast from his past he wasn’t likely to forget.

Renee Riley.

Oh, man…

She was standing on the opposite side of a bland, four-door sedan that just screamed rental, reaching into the back seat for something—so she wasn’t paying attention to him. Which was good, because it meant she couldn’t see him gazing at her with what he hated to think was probably a profound, poetic longing.

Damn.

With the spectacular sunset looming behind her and with those riotous curls falling forward, obscuring part of her face, she almost looked like a painting. One of those Pre-Raphaelites he recalled from a humanities prerequisite at college—a lush, rounded woman gathering wheat at dusk. Garrett shook his head to clear it of the odd idea and tried—without much success—to tamp down the heat and desire that jumped to the fore. This was all he needed—Renee Riley as a houseguest.

Kate’s houseguest, he reminded himself. So she was the one who had some serious life choices to work out.

What kind of life choices could a woman that young have to ponder that she would exile herself to the very back of beyond? Because that’s exactly what the Final Destination was. A retreat in the fullest sense of the word, tucked in the middle of nowhere, barely in reach of society. They were on the very edge of available electricity and water, too far out for any kind of decent TV or radio reception. This was a place to do two things—raise cattle and get away from life.

It suited Garrett perfectly.

Renee, however… Well, she didn’t quite seem the exile type. On the contrary, the impression he’d received of her at Mac’s wedding was of a warm, outgoing woman who doubtless made friends faster than most people made messes, someone who thrived in social surroundings.

Even though they’d only spent a short time together, they’d shared a surprisingly meaningful conversation. Among other things. And somehow, in that brief time, Renee had crawled under Garrett’s skin and set up housekeeping there. Over the last three months, no matter how hard he’d tried—and he’d tried awfully damned hard—he hadn’t been able to drive her out of his system. She lingered constantly at the fringes of his thoughts, crept into his brain at the oddest moments and just more or less left him tied in knots.

All because of a few little kisses that had left him thinking, What if…

Which was another thing he wished he could figure the hell out. He’d shared more than a couple of chaste kisses with more than a couple of women, but no encounter he’d ever had with the opposite sex had come close to shaking him up the way a few little pecks with Renee had. There had been nothing to that embrace, he tried to tell himself, not for the first time. Nothing. But it had haunted him like no other experience he’d ever shared with a woman.

It made no sense. She was too young, too naive, too insignificant to have this effect on him. But as she straightened and hauled an oversize tote bag over her shoulder, slinging her hair back in the process, the evening breeze nudged a dark curl over her forehead. And Garrett, God help him, found himself wanting to run to the yard to tuck the errant strand of hair where it belonged.

He just wanted to touch her. Badly. As he’d wanted to touch her for three months. Three long, agonizing months. And now here she was, almost within reach, as if someone were bestowing upon him a wondrous gift. Someplace deep down inside Garrett, a little spark he would have sworn had been doused years ago flickered to life, sputtered a bit, then kindled into a small, fragile flame. And strangely enough, he felt a smile—an honest-to-God genuinely happy smile—curl his lips for the first time in years.

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