THE TEXAS TATTLER

All the news that’s barely fit to print!

FORTUNE HEIR ALIVE!

Telling Clue Sheds Light on Baby’s Whereabouts

Texas’s most talked-about family was rejuvenated with hope last week with the sudden appearance of enlightening evidence in the dramatic kidnapping case of beloved Bryan Fortune. On the one-year anniversary of the baby-snatching, a plain white envelope was delivered to the palatial Double Crown Ranch, which included a second shocking ransom note and a photograph of a grinning Bryan next to a recent issue of the San Antonio Star.

Though the kidnapper(s) failed to comply with the FBI’s baby-for-money trade, top-notch law enforcement officials are encouraged and combing the area for signs of the cooing heir. Red Rock’s Sheriff Wyatt Grayhawk predicts, “The villains are probably closer than we think.”

And talk about closer than you might think… Lovely marriage planner Hannah Cassidy, daughter of Lily Cassidy—soon-to-be wife of mogul Ryan Fortune—was spotted in a candlelit cuddlefest with ferocious divorce attorney Parker Malone. And just when The Tattler had all but voted this ultra-eligible bachelor most likely to go down the aisle…kicking and screaming! Looks as if this wedding-hostess-with-the-mostest has her toughest assignment yet….

About the Author

SANDRA STEFFEN

Growing up as the fourth child of ten, Sandra developed a keen appreciation for laughter and argument. She lives in Michigan with her husband, three of their four sons and a blue-eyed mutt who thinks her name is No-Molly-No. Sandra’s book Child of Her Dreams won the 1994 National Readers’ Choice Award. Several of her titles have appeared on the national bestseller lists.

Lone Star Wedding
Sandra Steffen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Meet the Fortunes of Texas

Hannah Cassidy: She never expected to be enamored with Parker Malone, the man who was trying to stop her mother’s upcoming nuptials to mogul Ryan Fortune. And although the daughter of the bride had no intention of changing her mom’s mind about marriage, she had every intention of changing Parker’s….

Parker Malone: As a divorce lawyer, he didn’t believe in love and marriage. As a man, he couldn’t resist sweet Hannah’s charms. Still, the lovely wedding planner couldn’t convince Parker to surrender his heart…could she?

Sophia Barnes Fortune: The soon-to-be ex-wife of billionaire Ryan Fortune was just weeks away from signing a fifty-million-dollar divorce settlement. But she was having second thoughts about settling for such a paltry sum when what she really wanted was the entire Fortune empire.

Victoria Fortune: A woman in danger, she found shelter in the arms of a handsome bodyguard. Could she trust him with her heart?

For Melissa Jeglinski

I was your first author at Silhouette and you were my first editor there. This is our twentieth book together, and I’m still thanking my lucky stars for your insight, skill, understanding and humor.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

One

Hannah Cassidy hitched the strap of her big leather purse onto her shoulder and hurried down the sidewalk toward her friend’s restaurant. The traffic on the street was heavy; the honking horns, hiss of brakes, and the pounding of a teenager’s car stereo were typical for a late Saturday afternoon in downtown San Antonio. Hannah’s jacket clung to her back and a sheen of perspiration dampened her forehead. She didn’t mind the heat. It was July, and like her father used to say, the only thing hotter than July in San Antonio was August.

She’d just come from a former classmate’s bridal shower, and she had to admit she was still smarting a little. All any of her friends talked about these days was settling down and biological clocks. She was only twenty-seven. What was the hurry? Oh, she’d grown adept at smiling demurely when her friends offered advice concerning her single status, but even she’d had to stretch to find her smile when she’d opened the consolation prize this afternoon. They’d thought it was hilarious.

Hannah hadn’t bothered defending the stand she’d taken when it came to settling for less than honest love. Couldn’t they see that she liked her life? Her business, The Perfect Occasion, was challenging and rewarding and was even starting to show a profit. Her mother and brother were happy, and lately she’d felt a strange sense of anticipation, as if excitement was just around the corner.

So what if she spent more Saturday nights working than she spent dating? She was good at what she did, and she was earning a reputation for her ability to dream up wonderful, unusual themes for everything from birthday and retirement parties to graduations and weddings. Traditional weddings would always be in style, but lately she’d seen a trend toward weddings with a theme. Her newest client wanted a mobster-style wedding and Hannah wanted to talk to her closest friend about reserving The Pink Flamingo for the evening of the big event.

She ducked around the building that housed Adrienne’s restaurant, and slipped through a bright-pink side door. The air inside the small, trendy restaurant was decidedly cooler, but the pace was no less hectic than it had been on the street out front. Waiters and waitresses in black trousers and fuchsia-colored shirts bustled from the kitchen to the dining room, heavy trays balanced high on their hands.

Hannah’s best friend, Adrienne Blakely, was nowhere in sight, not in her usual place behind the dais in the lobby, or in the dining room, or in the office near the back door. Hannah poked her head inside the kitchen last. The chef and his assistant, a spiky-haired, forty-year-old woman named Desiree who was dicing vegetables, glanced up at the same time.

“Have either of you seen Adrienne?” Hannah asked.

Gerard raised his eyes expressively, but it was the woman brandishing the knife who said, “Last I knew, she was sweet-talking a customer who burned her tongue on Gerard’s soup.”

“How many times must I tell you it’s called fricassee?”

“Freakin’ whatever,” Desiree insisted. “I’m telling you, one of these days somebody’s gonna figure out how to sue God for making the sky blue.”

A waitress bustled in with another order. “Is that true? Somebody’s suing God Almighty?”

Hannah laughed out loud. She’d never been able to figure out where Adrienne found her employees. As unusual as The Pink Flamingo itself, they never failed to make Hannah smile.

Leaving poor Gerard to explain, Hannah hurried from the room. Her footsteps slowed when she entered the dining room. There was still no sign of Adrienne, but that giddy feeling was back, stronger than ever. Excitement was just around the corner, so close she could almost taste it.

A movement to her left drew her attention. A tall, dark-haired man in an expensive-looking suit pushed his chair out just as a waiter she hadn’t met rounded the corner. Hannah could see the collision coming, and hurried forward, arms flailing. “Look out!”

Parker Malone glanced at his watch and reached for his briefcase all in one motion. The Pink Flamingo wasn’t the type of establishment he normally frequented, but his client had insisted on this trendy uptown restaurant with its brightly colored napkins and plastic pink flamingo on every table. Parker preferred more subdued settings, but the dinner meeting had gone well, all things considered. His client left. Next, Parker had an appointment across town with his father, the legendary J. D. Malone, and J.D. didn’t like to be kept waiting.

Parker was planning the most direct route to his father’s house when he felt a slight jab against his shoulder. His stop was automatic, his sudden jump backward a reflex action. A dark-haired woman and a pimply faced kid both stopped abruptly. Unfortunately the objects in their hands didn’t. A tray and a purse toppled to the floor. Everything else went flying. Parker bit back an expletive the same instant a coffee cup bounced off his elbow. He spun around, steaming coffee arcing like a miniature tidal wave, heading straight for the woman’s arm.

She jumped, winced, and made a grab for her jacket. Parker’s hands were already there, whisking the jacket off her as if it were a cloth off a magician’s table. He was vaguely aware of something cold that had splattered the back of his hand, but his attention was trained on the skin he’d bared. The hot coffee had left red splotches on an upper arm that was otherwise golden brown. Her shoulders were slightly bony; her collarbone looked fragile. His gaze strayed slightly lower. She definitely wasn’t skinny everywhere. His perusal had made it as far as her chin when he felt a small object beneath the sole of his shoe. He glanced down, then lowered to his haunches and took the small square packet into his hand.

The floor was littered with all kinds of women’s paraphernalia: combs, lipstick, one earring, keys, a pen, a pack of gum, and at least a dozen packages similar to the one in his hand. He’d known women who carried one or two, but a dozen or more? He was speechless, no small feat for an attorney with the reputation for having a razor-sharp tongue.

“I’ll take that. I just came from a shower, and this was the consolation prize.” The woman’s voice, deep and sultry, stirred his senses; the flutter of her fingertips on his palm all it took to kick his libido into high gear. He didn’t know what the hell she meant by consolation prize, but her mention of showers evoked a potent image of long limbs, full breasts, steaming water and sultry sighs.

“Here, le’ me help.” The waiter poked his way between Parker and the woman. “Are these what I think they are? Oh, my God, pink, yellow and blue? Cool.”

Parker glared at the kid. “It’s bad enough that you’re inept, but you’re in the goddamn way. I have a meeting across town in twenty minutes and I didn’t plan to wear chocolate mousse on my Italian tie. This is the stuff lawsuits are made of.”

The woman gasped, her gray-eyed gaze meeting Parker’s for the first time. “I really hope you won’t do that. I think I have something that will help diffuse the situation. Let’s find a quiet corner and get you taken care of.”

She began scooping the remaining pastel-colored packets back into her purse. With the exception of the blood thundering through his ears, Parker couldn’t seem to move.

“This won’t take long,” she said, rising to her feet. “I assure you that you won’t be more than a few minutes late for your appointment. If you’ll just follow me.”

Parker rose to his feet very slowly. Regardless of how long it took, he was going to be late.

Hell, J.D. could wait.

She strolled toward a narrow hallway, and he followed, aware of the sway of her hips beneath that beige skirt. Upon closer inspection he noticed that the only thing nondescript about the skirt was the color. The fabric and fit were noteworthy, to say the least. She’d tucked the matching jacket over her arm. Funny, he didn’t remember handing it to her. They passed a series of doors marked Employees Only and finally entered what appeared to be a small storage room. She switched on a light, but didn’t close the door. Parker thought that was interesting but refrained from comment.

Until a couple of minutes ago he’d thought he’d heard it all, seen it all, and experienced most of it, but this situation had all the makings of one for the record books. Assuming a watch-and-listen attitude, he stood back and waited to see what she would do.

Her head was tipped forward, her gigantic purse held at waist level. “I know it’s here somewhere,” she said, rummaging through the bag. “I just had it in my hand.”

“Do you—” he had to clear his throat to finish “—do this often?”

She shrugged, the action drawing his attention to the front of a flesh-colored silk tank he’d uncovered when he’d peeled her jacket off her shoulders. “No, but I enjoy helping out now and then.” Still digging through her purse, she continued. “My best friend owns this place. You know how hard it is to get a business off the ground. A lawsuit could ruin her. You don’t want to sue, do you? I mean, the courts are already crammed with petty lawsuits, aren’t they? If I can just find that silly little package I can get you taken care of and you can be on your way.”

The single bulb overhead cast a golden glow over her dark hair, casting a shadow on her cheeks every time she blinked. Who in the hell was she? What in the hell was she? She didn’t look like a hooker, that was for damn sure. Prostitutes didn’t wear beige suits. And he’d never seen a hooker with dewy-looking skin or hair so many shades of dark brown it had to be natural.

“A-ha.” Smiling, she lifted a square foil package to her mouth and placed it between her teeth.

Parker sucked in a deep breath. Okay. She didn’t fit any preconceived notions he had, but with that little package opening between her teeth, several of his fantasies swirled through his mind then dove to a place straight south of there.

If he didn’t say something pretty soon, he was going to lose his ability to speak.

“Lady.” His gaze got caught on her mouth and he almost chucked his conscience. She reached for the package with one hand and looked up at him, her eyes large, her lips lifted in a half smile he found stimulating as hell.

He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and took a small backward step. “Look, it’s a tempting offer, but I don’t have sex with women I don’t know. I haven’t in years.”

Hannah froze. Sex? Was that what he’d said?

A gong went off inside her skull, understanding dawning with all the subtlety of a hurricane. The consolation prizes, her assurance that she would alleviate the situation. He’d seen, he’d heard, and he thought she was a common…an ordinary…a woman who…

She knew her mouth was gaping. Clamping it shut, she took a backward step. He’d said it was a tempting offer. Of all the egotistical…

She could still hardly believe the insinuation. Why, she was no more a…

A…

How dare he…

Why, she ought to…

With utmost control and precision, she pulled the premoistened towelette from the little package in her fingers and shoved it into his hand. “You’d better get your mind out of the gutter, mister. And while you’re at it, clean your own stinking tie.”

She spun on her heel and left him standing there, his eyes wide, his mouth set in a grim line, a crinkled, premoistened towelette in his outstretched hand.

Hannah rushed headlong through the restaurant and out the side door. She hadn’t found Adrienne, but her instincts had been right. Excitement had been just around the corner. Excitement and embarrassment, that is. And nestled tightly between the two had been an incredible awareness of the man’s height, the breadth of his shoulders, his chiseled features softened slightly by a small cleft in his chin. For a moment when she’d first seen that little indentation, she’d wanted to place her finger there, ever so gently.

She’d never felt so instantaneously attracted to a man. It had almost been lyrical. She’d practically heard violins.

And he’d thought she was a hooker.

Reaching her boutique in record time, Hannah unlocked the door that led to her apartment and quickly took the stairs. Feeling slightly off-kilter, she opened some windows and thanked her lucky stars that she never had to see that man again.

“What I want to know is why y’all didn’t get his phone number?”

Adrienne Blakely lifted the lid on a container she’d brought with her from the restaurant, sniffed, and replaced the lid, only to move on to the next container. A former Miss Atlanta runner-up, Adrienne was drop-dead gorgeous, loved bright colors, and had maintained her Georgia accent despite the fact that she hadn’t been “home” in nearly ten years. “And why in hades aren’t you using the air-conditioning?”

Hannah scribbled a note on the wedding planner on her lap then popped a cocktail shrimp into her mouth. A fan stirred the hair at her nape. She’d changed into shorts and a tank top hours ago. Her feet were bare, her face clean-scrubbed. Returning to her notes, she said, “You know I like to dress light when I’m home.”

The two women were upstairs in Hannah’s apartment, and as they often had these past three years since they’d met, they were spending a companionable evening together eating the leftovers Adrienne had brought with her after closing The Pink Flamingo for the night.

Stretching out on Hannah’s sofa, Adrienne fluffed a pillow and placed it beneath her head. “And the other portion of my question?”

“I told you,” Hannah said, shaking her head because Adrienne never let a question go, no matter how relaxed she appeared. “The man’s a shark.”

“So?”

“What do you mean, ‘so’?”

“So y’all stay out of the ocean. That doesn’t mean you have to stay out of his bed.”

“I’m not getting into his bed.”

“Whyever not? Just because I’ve decided never to have sex again is no reason you shouldn’t.”

“He mistook me for a prostitute. That’s hardly a good basis for a relationship.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I was thinking more along the lines of head-reeling, toe-curling, mind-boggling sex.”

“Get real.”

“I am real. One hundred percent.” Adrienne glanced at her chest. “It’s what cost me the crown. My mother reminded me of it a little while ago over the phone. Now, if I would have been born with a chest like yours, I would have been a shoe-in, but I didn’t develop large breasts naturally, and I just couldn’t put silicone in my body, not even for a title and a shiny tiara. My mother still hasn’t forgiven me.”

“I thought you said it was the congeniality contest that got you.”

“Oh, that.”

Hannah smiled. Adrienne joked about that fated beauty contest from time to time, but she’d once confided in Hannah that the real reason she’d lost was much more scandalous and heart-breaking. Rather than reminding Adrienne of painful memories, she said, “Besides, if you had a chest like mine, you’d have to wear a bra.”

Adrienne wrinkled up her nose. “That wouldn’t be any fun. But we digress. I thought he was sort of cute.”

“Sort of cute? The man was a god in a suit and an imported silk tie, which you’ll probably be sued for, by the way.” Adrienne waved the notion away, and Hannah added, “And even if I was interested, I don’t know his name.”

“Parker.”

Hannah looked up from the wing chair where she’d been curled up for the past hour, and slowly lowered her feet to the floor. “What did you say?”

“His name is Parker.” The trendy Southern blonde had Hannah’s undivided attention now, but Adrienne continued to stare at the chipped purple nail polish on her big toe. “Parker Malone.”

“How do you know that?”

“He told me.”

“You’ve met him?”

“Somebody had to save my newest waiter from the interrogation your john was giving him.”

“J—John?”

Adrienne laughed at the stricken expression on Hannah’s face. “You know I love to kid. Did you really dump a whole box of pastel-colored condoms at his feet then politely tell him to follow you? My, but you do know how to make an impression. No wonder he was so interested.”

“He wasn’t interested.”

“He wanted to know your name. Actually, I think he would have appreciated any information he could have weaseled out of us. Your phone number, your driver’s license number, your social security number, your birth date, address, star sign, shoe size, whatever.”

“You didn’t tell him!” Hannah was on her feet, and Adrienne raised noisily to a sitting position.

“Relax,” she said, pushing her short blond hair behind her ears. “Jason doesn’t know you yet, and I’m not intimidated by the Parker Malones in this world.”

Hannah fell back into her chair. “How did you get so much backbone?”

“I was raised in the South, remember? Y’all don’t think those finishing schools only teach girls how to drink tea with their pinkies in the air, do you? What are you working on, anyway?”

“Plans for my mother’s wedding.”

Adrienne paused in the middle of picking up their used paper plates to glance at the lists Hannah was making. “I still can’t believe your mother is going to marry one of the Fortunes of Texas. My mother would die to marry me off to a rich man. I’m thirty-three. I think she’s giving up hope. But Ryan Fortune is rich, and his ranch, the Double Crown, is one of the biggest, most prestigious and profitable ranches in the entire state. It’s just so romantic that your mother loved him when they were both practically children, and now they’re finally being reunited. Have y’all decided what you’re going to wear to the engagement party next weekend?”

“Mother refuses to call it an engagement party. It’s just a get-together.” Hannah motioned to a tiny closet in the alcove between the living room and her bedroom. “I picked up a dress the other day.”

“Tell me it isn’t beige.” At the expression on Hannah’s face, Adrienne said, “Sugar pie, you should wear something bright pink or purple, or better yet, red.” She spoke into the closet, causing the words to sound muffled. “Something that’ll make y’all shine.”

“It’s my mother’s big night, Adrienne. She’s the one I want to shine.”

Adrienne swung around so suddenly the long dress in her hand swished. Her eyebrows formed two identical blond arches, her lips shaped around a long whistle. Holding a filmy, wispy dress the color of walnut shells up to Hannah, she said, “It may not be pink or red, but lordy, I do believe you’re gonna be doing a little shining of your own. What a shame you’re going alone. Whoever could you call? Perhaps some tall, dashing man with an adorable little cleft in his chin?”

Leave it to Adrienne to have noticed that.

Hannah stared past the other woman, picturing the stranger’s strong face. Now that she knew his name, their brief encounter seemed even more intimate. It didn’t change the fact that he’d assumed she was a woman who made her living on her back. It stung her pride, and her pride was important to her.

She took the dress from Adrienne and hung it in the closet. “He’s pompous, he’s arrogant, he’s shrewd and he has a sharp tongue. A man like that wouldn’t think twice about using a woman like me and then tossing me aside.”

Hands full of containers, Adrienne headed for the door. “From what you’ve told me about that little episode in the storage room, he didn’t take you up on what he thought you were offering. He must have at least one scruple.”

“Maybe you should call him.”

“He wasn’t after my phone number, sweetie. I still say you should give it the old college try.”

With a wink the Southern belles of old would have never gotten away with, Adrienne left. It didn’t take long for Hannah to notice the flat, gray object on the table where she always dumped the mail. She padded over and reached out with one finger, sliding the card closer as if it might bite her.

Malone, Malone & Associates, P.C. Attorneys At Law

Adrienne was about as subtle as her bright pink capri pants.

There was a business address, a business phone number. Hannah turned the card over. On the back was another telephone number, this one written in black ink in a distinctive, masculine scrawl.

She knew his name. She knew his phone number. Now what? she wondered.

Now nothing, she told herself. Her encounter with Parker Malone was over. It didn’t matter that he’d been the most ruggedly attractive man she’d ever seen in a suit. He’d embarrassed her. Worse, he’d jumped to conclusions, the most degradingly possible kind.

Striding to an antique desk, she bent to drop the card into the wicker basket filled with wadded-up notes and paper plates. She stared at the card for a long time, then opened a drawer and dropped it inside.

Hannah accepted a glass of white wine from a pleasant, friendly woman who spoke with a Mexican accent. Taking a small sip, Hannah glanced around. She’d seen Ryan Fortune several times since he’d come back into her mother’s life. The first time she’d visited his home, she’d been in awe of its size. She’d heard someone say the house had eight bedrooms. It was grand, and at the same time warm and lovely. The ceiling in the great room was high and beamed. An old stone fireplace dominated an entire wall. Handwoven blankets hung on the other three walls, pottery made by local artists from the same type of clay on which the house sat leant warmth and interest to shelves, corners and on the top of a painted armoire that probably hid a television and stereo system from view.

The house was large, opulent and cordial, as was its owner. Hannah had liked both on sight. Ryan Fortune had promised her mother the party would be a small, friendly gathering. Hannah was beginning to realize that to a man of Ryan’s wealth and social standing, sixty-five to seventy people constituted a small group.

Hannah stood with her mother near the entryway leading to the dining room. Following the course of her mother’s gaze to the group of men on the other side of the room, one of whom was Lily’s future husband, Hannah smiled. Lily Redgrove Cassidy was lovely, and perhaps even more exotic-looking at fifty-three than she’d been at seventeen. Her firstborn and only son, Cole, stood across the room with Ryan and two men whose backs were to Hannah and her mother.

“He’ll be back in a moment, Mom.”

Lily glanced around sharply at Hannah. “I know that, dear.”

“Then what is it?” Hannah asked, trying to understand the reason for her mother’s obvious discomfiture. “Maria isn’t coming, is that it? Is that why you’re chewing on your bottom lip?”

Smoothing an errant strand of hair back into the intricate knot on the back of her head, Lily said, “I’m disappointed that your sister isn’t here, but that’s not it.”

“Then, what is it?”

Lily squeezed her middle child’s hand. “You know me so well. Am I really so transparent?”

“You’re beautiful, and you know it. I can tell when something’s bothering you, that’s all. What could possibly be marring this happy occasion?”

“I’ve learned that Ryan’s attorney is dead-set against Ryan and I making our engagement public. Ryan won’t listen, but what if he’s right? He started divorce proceedings long before he and I found one another again, but what if my presence in his life makes it even more difficult for him to finally break free of Sophia?”

Hannah shook her head sadly. Her own brother was an attorney, so she didn’t dislike all lawyers, but at that moment she very much disliked the attorney who had put the worry in her mother’s brown eyes. “Ryan Fortune has been to hell and back with that woman he married when he was too blind with grief to see her for what she was. He deserves happiness, Mom, and so do you. I’m proud of him for wanting to proclaim his love for you to the world. Maybe Ryan should tell his attorney to take a flying leap the next time he sees him.”

“Oh, his attorney is here tonight, dear.”

“He is?”

Laughter erupted on the other side of the room. Ryan slapped the man closest to him on the back, then held up a glass, his eyes meeting Lily’s. “I’d like to propose a toast.”

Little by little, conversations throughout the room ceased and everyone looked toward Ryan. It was common knowledge that Ryan had gotten his height and build from his father, the late Kingston Fortune, but his dark hair and eyes came from his mother, Selena. Ryan’s personality, drive and conviction were all his own. “To my future wife.”

Suddenly all eyes turned to Lily. Lily Redgrove Cassidy stood out in every crowd, but the smile she cast at her future husband made her appear radiant in a way Hannah had never seen. A smile tugged at Hannah’s mouth, as well. She raised her glass, her gaze darting over people all around the room. There were plenty of Fortunes present, of course, but the rest of the guests were a mixture of people who wore power and prestige as if it were their right, and others who had worked for Ryan Fortune for years and had earned a permanent place in the Fortune household as well as in all the Fortunes’ hearts.

Pleased that all these people were welcoming her mother into their circle, Hannah smiled warmly at her brother, who winked, eliciting a broader smile from her. Her glass was almost to her lips when her gaze meandered to the man standing to Cole’s right. Her eyes widened, her head turning automatically for a more direct look.

Disbelief had her lowering her glass. She might have glanced right past the piercing blue eyes that were staring directly at her, the chiseled jaw, prominent cheekbones and slightly arrogant tilt of the man’s head, but she couldn’t have overlooked the shadow in the tiny cleft in Parker Malone’s chin even if she’d tried.

Two

Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes. Unless Parker Malone had an identical twin, he was staring at her across this very room. Surely every ounce of blood had drained out of her face. It stood to reason, since her heart seemed to have stopped beating.

She managed to turn her attention to her mother and arrange her features into what she hoped passed for a normal, nonplussed expression. Hannah believed in fate and in chance. She even believed in luck, good and bad. But what in the world were the chances that the same man who had mistaken her for a hooker not only knew the man who was going to marry her mother but knew him well enough to be invited to an intimate party honoring his intended engagement to her mother? If the odds of that weren’t slim enough to constitute bad luck, they were close.

“Do you know the dark-haired man on Ryan’s left, Mom?”

Still smiling, Lily answered, barely breaking eye contact with Ryan across the room. “That’s Parker Malone.”

So much for Hannah’s identical twin theory. “Is he a friend of the Fortunes?”

“Their families go way back, but Parker is Ryan’s divorce attorney.”

Malone, Malone & Associates. Ryan’s divorce attorney, who was adamantly opposed to Ryan’s wish to make his engagement to Lily public. And the first man Hannah had been completely attracted to in a long, long time. Three separate identities all rolled into one. Hannah couldn’t believe her run of lu—

“Luck,” Ryan said.

Hannah started, because Ryan said the word in the exact moment she’d been thinking it.

“It was a fluke, really,” he added, “that has reunited Lily and me. Therefore, I’d like to propose another toast. To the divine wheel of fortune that brought Lily back into my life. To chance and circumstance and a marvelous coincidence that changed my life.”

Hannah’s gaze was inexplicably drawn to Parker once again. He lifted his glass to her in a private toast and graced her with a smile that was stark and white and so intimate she had to remind herself to breathe.

While Ryan made his way toward Lily, people throughout the room drank to his health and future and patted him on the back as he passed. Hannah admired the way her mother held her ground, raised her chin, as regal as a queen, and waited for Ryan to stroll gallantly across the room. She was old-fashioned that way, wanting the man to come to her. The Cassidys had never had the Fortunes’ money, but they equaled them in pride.

Although Ryan accepted congratulations on his way by, his attention on Lily was steadfast. The degree of his devotion to her mother brought a lump to Hannah’s throat. It was the kind of love she was waiting for.

Ryan kissed Lily’s lips, and then Hannah’s cheek. “Thanks for coming, Hannah,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

“I mean it,” he said. “It means so much to me to have both you and Cole here. I understand Maria isn’t as pleased about Lily’s and my upcoming wedding as you and Cole. I only hope that in time, she will come to realize how deeply I care for your mother.”

Lily and Hannah shared a long look and a heartfelt sigh. Maria was every bit as beautiful as Lily, but there was a hard edge to Maria that simply didn’t exist in her mother and sister. Although Lily had spoken with Maria by telephone a month ago, neither she nor Hannah had been successful in connecting on a meaningful level with the youngest Cassidy in a very long time.

“I don’t like to admit it,” Lily said, looking earnestly into Ryan’s eyes, “but I’m afraid Maria is ashamed of her meager roots.”

Ryan placed his hand on Lily’s cheek as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her. “Families are complicated. God knows, mine is.” His gaze strayed over Lily’s head where his son, Matthew stood, all alone.

Hannah had heard rumors that Matthew and his wife, Claudia, had separated. Her heart went out to the couple, whose lives had become twisted in tragedy and haunted by unanswered questions since their newborn son had been kidnapped and another child returned in his place. Matthew and Claudia were both here, but not together, the events of the past year etched in each of their faces.

Ryan shook his head. “My family history is riddled with enough twists and turns to fill several books. My son, Zane, thinks I should write them down. Maybe I will. In my old age. Suddenly, at fifty-three, I feel like a very young man.”

He took Lily’s hand and turned to the guests. Raising his voice above the laughter and noise, he motioned to the wide double doors Rosita Perez, his devoted friend and long-serving housekeeper, had just opened. “Some of the finest musicians in San Antonio have been tuning their instruments for the better part of the past hour,” he said good-naturedly. “Let’s all go outside where we can appreciate their music as well as the stars on such a beautiful summer night.”

Hannah was swept forward with Lily and Ryan and the throng of guests heading outdoors. She found herself in the courtyard, surrounded by people she didn’t know. Ryan had been right about the beautiful summer evening. Night had tamed the scorching temperature, turning it gentle, touching it with mystery. Lily had once told Hannah that Ryan’s mother, and later, his first wife, had been avid gardeners. The courtyard and the grounds were testimony to the love and care they’d given the lawns and gardens surrounding the sprawling adobe-styled house. Masses of large, purple sage plants looked almost black beneath the pale glow of artificial lights. Roses covered arbors, and flowering vines climbed the sandstone walls that surrounded Ryan’s home.

The orchestra was playing, and several people moved onto the dance floor. Hannah had gotten separated from her mother and Ryan. Making small talk with an older couple nearby, it occurred to her that she and Cole were the only guests present who were connected more closely to Lily than to Ryan. She made a mental note to remind the ushers, when the time came, to seat guests on either side of the church, so as to better balance the guests, rather than in the traditional manner of the bride’s guests on the left, the groom’s on the right.

“It’s a small world.”

Hannah recognized the deep voice spoken a few feet behind her. She took a calming breath, then turned to face Parker Malone. “Sometimes it seems that way.”

There was something deliberate in the step he took in her direction, something just as deliberate in his smile. He’d removed his navy jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. By all rights, he should have looked less intimidating. Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm because he didn’t look less anything. She cleared her throat, pretending not to be affected.

“I’m Parker Malone.”

Since it would have been impolite to refuse it, she took his outstretched hand, but only briefly. “I know.”

Parker waited to see if she would add anything, for instance, her name. She didn’t say a word. Evidently she knew her etiquette, but she only took civility so far. He’d always been under the assumption that women were uncomfortable with long stretches of silence. Hell, now that he thought about it, most of the women he knew never shut up long enough to find out. There was something different about this woman. He’d tried to dismiss memories of their brief meeting, but he’d had very little success putting her out of his mind. That wasn’t so surprising. He’d always believed that first impressions were the most potent, and his first impression of Hannah Cassidy had been a fantasy in the making.

“Are you enjoying the party, Hannah?”

She acknowledged his use of her name with the barest lift of her eyebrows. Parker would have preferred a proper introduction even though he’d grilled Ryan regarding all the Cassidys weeks ago.

“Yes, I am.”

It might have been her intention to instill her voice with an overlying coldness, but Parker earned a very good living by paying attention to the most subtle nuances and inflections in his clients’ voices. She wasn’t as cold as she wanted him to believe. A smug feeling of satisfaction settled over him. No matter what she pretended, she was aware of him. He’d venture a little further to say she was attracted to him, too.

“Nice night.”

She glanced at the guests, the orchestra, and the lawns far beyond the patio, and slowly nodded.

“Hannah?”

She turned her head very slowly, and looked up at him. There was a softness in her eyes, and a directness he liked very much. “Ryan was right about that orchestra. They’re very good. Would you care to dance?”

She hesitated, as if surprised by his question. “As a matter of fact,” she said, the sound of her voice as dusky as secrets whispered in the dark, “I would love to.”

Parker felt the way he did when he was nearing the end of an intense game of chess. Victory was close. Check.

She smiled sweetly at him. And he reacted in the most basic and masculine way.

He reached for her hand, but she’d backed up. Increasing the distance between them, she lowered her voice and said, “Perhaps if you combed the numbers on a public rest room wall, you could find someone to accommodate you.”

He watched through narrowed eyes as she stopped a dozen feet away to speak to her brother, Cole. She didn’t glance back at Parker, but when she dragged her brother onto the dance floor, Parker got her message loud and clear. She wanted to dance. Just not with him.

Checkmate.

Parker considered himself a reasonable man, but he still saw red. He wasn’t accustomed to having his overtures rejected, dammit. Although he had to admit her technique had been noteworthy.

Everything about Hannah Cassidy was noteworthy.

He’d noticed her when she’d first arrived. Every hair on his body had raised slightly, as if he was standing too close to an electric fence. He’d been on sensory overload ever since. It wasn’t the color of her dress that made such an impression, but the lack of color. It was a pale shade of brown, so close to the color of her skin that at first glance it almost appeared as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all. Almost. Every man in the universe knew just how provocative almost could be.

The dress was semi-transparent from the knees down, and if you looked close, in a three-inch band around her waist. It left her shoulders bare, but wasn’t low cut in the front or in the back. It was the kind of dress a woman who neither felt compelled to flaunt her body nor hide it wore. That such a woman existed was an intriguing concept, one Parker would have to ponder later. Hannah wore no necklace or rings. He’d checked her left hand twice. Her hair appeared darker beneath the twinkle of hundreds of tiny lights, a few tresses curling down her neck and in front of her ears, the rest secured high in the back with a single brown comb.

He didn’t know much about her. He sure hadn’t had any luck garnering information from the waiter who’d dumped chocolate mousse on his tie, or from the eccentric blonde who owned The Pink Flamingo, although he was certain she had been withholding information. Still, Parker hadn’t had to ask who Hannah was tonight. He’d known the moment he’d seen her standing next to Lily Cassidy. Although the eyes and color preferences were different, the resemblance between mother and daughter was unmistakable.

He was still watching Hannah when his father materialized out of a nearby crowd. Ice cubes clinked in the bottom of the older man’s empty glass. “Ryan Fortune is as stubborn as a mule, but his bourbon is the best money can buy.”

J. D. Malone was an inch shorter than his son and kept his weight within fifteen pounds of what it had been when he was young. Women enjoyed him. Men either feared him or revered him. Few actually liked him. Most of the time, the jury was out as to where Parker stood in regard to his father. “I take it you haven’t had any luck talking sense into Ryan concerning his affair with Lily Cassidy. The man’s not thinking with his head. I never trust the opposition, and I trust Sophia Fortune less than most. That woman isn’t going to let go of Ryan’s fortune without one hell of a fight. His infatuation with the Cassidy woman is a serious mistake.”

Parker shook his head. “Infatuation? Ryan wants her the way a man in the desert wants water.”

J.D.’s tone hardened. “That’s lust. If he can’t control his sexual urges he should find himself a call girl, at least until his divorce is final. I wouldn’t expect a man like him to shop on street corners. There are agencies these days that operate out of penthouses. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way to go. You get what you pay for, I always say.”

Parker wouldn’t want to be the one to suggest such a thing to Ryan Fortune. He wouldn’t recommend J.D. do it, either. His father had never preached honor when it came to sex. His sex talk had consisted of taking precautions and using discretion. No wonder Parker had jumped to the wrong conclusion in that damned storage room last week.

J.D. returned to the group of men he’d been talking to. Parker stayed in the shadows, scowling.

The song finally ended. He noticed it didn’t take long for one of Ryan’s nephews to ask Hannah to dance and for her to accept. Sipping seltzer water over ice, Parker stood apart from the crowd, biding his time. Fifteen more minutes and he would be able to leave.

Time was almost up when he noticed a pale-brown blur out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see Hannah slip away from her latest suitor and stroll along one of the curving walkways in the distance. Placing his empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, Parker glanced at his watch. Might as well put his time to good use.

Trying to catch her breath after all that dancing, Hannah smiled as she passed the teenage girls sitting on a weathered bench near the rose arbor. She strolled slowly along the path, her step light, the heels of her shoes clicking softly over the flagstone walk.

The garden was lovely, scented with honeysuckle and roses moist with dew. The paths were lit, but not nearly as brightly as the courtyard near the house. Here, shadows beckoned guests to enjoy the quietude of a leisurely stroll. If her mother’s wedding could have taken place anytime other than winter, Hannah would have loved to see it set right here. A few months ago she’d planned a wedding that had taken place in an arboretum where the lush ground cover had been mowed, creating a cloudlike carpet of delicate purple blooms.

Winter weddings were lovely, too, and would be the perfect time to accent in her mother’s favorite color, red. Hannah was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t notice the muted sound of a man’s footsteps behind her until they were very close. She glanced casually over her shoulder, and came to an abrupt stop.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Parker Malone said quietly.

She rallied quickly, impatient to be on her way. “I startle easily.”

“I called your name,” he said. “But I think the saying goes something like you seemed to be miles away.”

“I have a lot on my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

They both stepped in the same direction, paused, then tried going the other way. Hannah said, “What are you doing, Parker?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I have to kill a little more time before I can make a departure that’s socially acceptable. I thought I’d take a walk.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll leave you to your walk.” This time she darted around him, only to sigh in resignation when he fell into step beside her.

“I find myself in unfamiliar territory,” he said quietly.

The grounds were magnificent, but something told her that Parker Malone was accustomed to the finer things in life. “Unfamiliar, how?” she said, curious in spite of herself.

“I seem to be in the middle of a situation that calls for an apology.”

She felt his eyes on her, but she continued to look straight ahead.

“I’m afraid I’ve never been good at saying I’m sorry.” His voice had dropped in volume, losing its steely edge.

“At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced up at him then, and they shared a small smile, because the way he’d said it, he could have been apologizing for being honest.

“I jumped to the wrong conclusion about you the first time we met. I would have apologized sooner, but I didn’t know your name, let alone your telephone number. So I left my card with your friend and waited for you to contact me. Evidently she didn’t see fit to pass it on to you.”

“Adrienne gave me your card, Parker.” Hannah fell silent, letting the implications soak in. She’d chosen not to call him. End of story. He didn’t need to know she’d taken his business card out of the drawer three times last week.

Strains of music wafted from the courtyard. Night insects hummed and squeaked as if the musicians were playing just for them. No one else had ventured this far away from the party. Hannah was aware of how secluded this section of the garden was, and how alone she and Parker were. “Well,” she said, “I think I’ll turn back.”

“Hannah, wait.” His hand felt warm on her bare arm, so her shiver must have been the result of something else.

“Look,” she said. “Cole just told me you’ve already confronted him with your view on marriage in general, our mother’s and Ryan’s in particular. If you followed me because you want to enlist my help in talking her into signing that prenuptial agreement you drew up, you can forget it.”

The pressure on her arm changed slightly. “I followed you because there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all night.”

Suddenly he was directly in front of her, his face angling toward hers, blurring in front of her eyes. “I followed you to do this.”

His mouth covered hers before she had the presence of mind to resist. She must have closed her eyes, because suddenly she had to rely on her other senses. Her lips parted, and a rush of feeling flooded over her. Their breath mingled, their lips clung. His hand went around to the small of her back, pulling her closer, until their bodies touched ever so lightly.

Her hands found their way to him, one inching up to his shoulder, the other spreading wide over his chest. He made a sound deep in his throat, and his heart raced beneath her palm.

Parker had always had a good imagination. God knew, it had been working overtime this past week, but imagery couldn’t hold a candle to the jolt of excitement that had begun to pulse through him the moment his lips touched Hannah’s.

She sighed, her long, lean body going fluid against his. Her three-inch heels made her the perfect height for kissing. Her waist fit his hands, the flare of her hips enticing him to explore. A few moments ago the garden had seemed idyllically private. Suddenly it wasn’t nearly private enough.

Music played from the other side of the courtyard. A bed of tall ornamental grasses blocked them from view of the others. Another shudder went through him, want and need melding, burrowing deep inside him.

“I don’t want to stop.” His voice was a rasp in the semi-darkness. “But we have to, at least for now.”

Hannah came to her senses slowly. She glanced nervously around, relieved to find them alone, the shadow of an old sweet gum tree on one side, tall grasses swaying in the breeze on the other. She placed her hands on her cheeks and took a backward step.

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

“I disagree.”

No doubt. She had to think, and it wasn’t easy to do with him standing there looking at her. “In a sense, you’re the enemy.”

“If you’d care to explain, I’m all ears.”

He wasn’t really, she thought. He was all shoulders and planes and angles and…

He slid a hand into the pocket of his dress slacks, the action drawing attention to a place she really shouldn’t be looking. She glanced up at his face, only to find herself staring at the cleft in his chin. For heaven’s sake, did everything about him have to be riveting?

Taking control of her senses, she said, “I’ve overheard bits and pieces of several conversations tonight, and the general consensus around here seems to be that you don’t want Ryan to see my mother. Something tells me it isn’t a moral issue with you.”

“At least you’re not blinded by my brains and good looks.”

He was very good at deprecating humor. If this had been a laughing matter she would have smiled. “At least it hasn’t gone to your head.”

“That isn’t what’s gone to my head, Hannah.”

She had absolutely nothing to say to that. Thankfully, footsteps sounded on the garden path, and she was saved from having to try to reply.

“Hannah, there you are.” It was her mother. “Oh, hello, Parker. Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes,” Parker said.

“No,” Hannah said at the same time.

“I see.”

“Parker and I have been talking. I was just telling him that neither Cole nor I will try to influence you when it comes to your relationship with Ryan. I didn’t have a chance to tell him how I feel about prenuptial agreements. Perhaps you’d like to enlighten him.”

“Parker’s just doing his job, dear.”

It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Hannah or Parker, but it was Hannah who said, “You’re defending him?”

Lily looked at Parker, but spoke to her daughter. “I believe Parker has Ryan’s best interests at heart. Ryan trusts him, and Ryan doesn’t trust just anybody.”

Parker found himself at a rare loss for words. He was accustomed to receiving respect when he earned it, but there was compassion in Lily’s expression, too. It left him feeling raw, as if something was missing from his life. It made him uncomfortable. Almost as uncomfortable as unspent desire.

Hannah linked her arm through her mother’s. Bidding Parker good-night, the pair strolled away. Parker watched until they rounded a curve and were out of sight.

He finished his walk alone, deep in thought. He had to get hold of this situation. His fantasies had been playing tricks on him. Now that he’d kissed Hannah Cassidy, he could get her out of his system.

He glanced at his watch. Coincidentally, his fifteen minutes were up.

Parker strode out the back door of the business complex that housed Malone, Malone & Associates. Snagging his key out of his pocket, he pointed it at the ground-hugging Corvette parked between the Mercedes and the Cadillac. The push of one button unlocked his door. The touch of another started the engine. Pausing, he listened closely. The timing was off. He’d better make an appointment to have his mechanic take a look at it.

Footsteps sounded behind him. “Parker,” his father called. “You’re just the man I wanted to see.”

Parker stopped and slowly turned. Another minute and he would have made his escape. His car wasn’t the only one whose timing was off.

“What is it, J.D.?”

“I’ll make this brief. I just came from the Double Crown Ranch.”

Parker acknowledged the information with a slight nod. “Any luck convincing Ryan to push that prenup?”

Tucking his briefcase beneath one arm, J.D. shook his head. “He wants his divorce from Sophia, and he wants it now. All he can think about is marrying the Cassidy woman. He says he trusts her.” J.D. made a disparaging sound. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, son. I understand you’ve made contact with Lily Cassidy’s daughter.”

Parker’s eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, his only indication of surprise. “I suppose you could call it that.”

“Think you can get close enough to her to make her see reason?”

Parker knew how J.D.’s mind worked. By “reason,” he meant whatever suited him in his efforts to win the most money, the most assets, the lion’s share for his client.

“I don’t think so, J.D.”

“You kissed her.”

Parker didn’t even try to hide his reaction to that one. Did the man have spies?

J.D. smoothed a hand down the length of his tie. “I happened to be on that garden path last week. She looked pretty…shall I say, pliable.”

Parker clenched his jaw. “She’s refusing my phone calls. The flowers I sent her were returned to me, wilted.”

“So you’re already on it.”

J.D. turned to go. Accustomed to his father’s dismissals, Parker quickly strode the remaining distance to his car door.

“Parker?”

He looked up, one foot already in the car.

J.D. was watching him, eyes narrowed, his gaze cool and steady. His father had an uncanny ability to assess a person, a situation, a half-truth or an out-and-out lie. As a kid, that look had made Parker feel like a germ under a microscope. It still did.

“Check your calendar and let me know when you have an evening free,” J.D. said. “I’ll have my cook broil some steaks. You look like you could use a cattleman’s cut, medium rare.”

Parker hadn’t planned to smile. “I’ll do that, Father.”

J.D. smiled, too, but only briefly. And then he headed for the office. The father-son moment was over. It was business as usual.

An hour later Parker strummed his fingers on the steering wheel. His windows were down, but there wasn’t much air moving in downtown San Antonio today. Consequently, the plush leather seats felt at least a hundred and five degrees.

Come on, come on. He was parked along Smith Street, two car lengths away from a storefront painted a subtle charming beige. Two women, probably a mother and her grown daughter, had left a few minutes ago, arms filled with books and bags, heads undoubtedly filled with wedding plans.

It was twelve o’clock on the dot when he got out of his car and headed for the building bearing the sign The Perfect Occasion. A wind chime jingled softly when he opened the door, and air that was slightly cooler greeted him.

Hannah glanced up, the ready smile on her face suddenly looking a little less steady. “Parker, what are you doing here?”

He strolled farther into the room, the epitome of nonchalance, a hand on one hip, the other fiddling with a clasp he picked up off her desk. “I just happened to be in the neighborhood, so I thought I’d stop in and say hello.” He failed to mention that Ryan “just happened” to drop the name of Hannah’s business in passing that very day. He paused. “Is your air-conditioning on the blink?”

“No, why?”

His gaze made a quick trip over her sleeveless dress. She appeared cool and comfortable. “Never mind. I’m on my way to lunch. Care to join me?”

He could tell from her expression what her answer was going to be. Raising a hand, he said, “Would it sway your decision if I told you how much trouble I went to and how much time I spent juggling appointments so I could just happen to be in the neighborhood right now?”

“If you would have called first,” Hannah said, straightening pamphlets lying on her desk, “I could have saved you the trouble.”

“That’s a marvelous idea. I should know. I’ve tried it. You won’t take my calls.” He waited until she looked up to grace her with his sexiest smile. “And I take it you don’t like flowers.”

Her hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their task.

“Come on, Hannah. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends for weeks. Even my father thinks it’s taking a toll on me. From the looks of all the brochures and swatches of material and files in this room, you’ve been busy, too. I have to eat. You have to eat. We might as well eat together.”

He gave her a second dose of his sexy smile.

“I can’t, Parker.”

Parker understood a simple no when he heard one. This wasn’t a courtroom, and she wasn’t a witness he could badger. She was a woman, and she’d made herself perfectly clear. He straightened and carefully returned the clasp to the edge of her desk. He did a quick inventory of the room. There were framed photographs on several shelves behind her; a yellow flowered sofa sat at a comfortable angle near a matching overstuffed chair. White lights were strung through the fronds of huge potted plants. Balloons bobbed from strings that were tied to an antique filing cabinet, a cardboard cut-out clown propped nearby.

It occurred to him that Hannah Cassidy made her living from planning more than weddings. Redistributing his weight to one foot, he said, “I’d like to hire you.”

“What?”

She had a suspicious mind. He’d given her good reason for it. “I’m thinking about having a party.”

“You’re kidding.” Her disbelief showed in the tone of her voice. Recovering slightly, she said, “What kind of party?”

“I don’t know. I just thought of it.”

“Parker, why are you really here?”

That was a good question. He worded his answer very carefully. “It isn’t because I have a lot of idle time. It’s just the opposite. Yesterday I was trying to talk an irate husband out of hiring a private investigator to follow his wife, whom he suspected was cheating. I was in the middle of trying to explain that in no-fault divorce states, there’s no use. Suddenly your image crowded into my brain. You’re interfering with my concentration.”

Hannah didn’t know what to say. Doggone it, she felt complimented. She had no business feeling that way. She and Parker were complete opposites. While she planned weddings down to the smallest detail, he took marriages apart, asset by asset.

“Look. I have an appointment across town with a very anxious bride to be.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a price list and several brochures depicting the different themes she’d used in planning parties. Placing the pamphlets near the edge of her desk, she said, “You can look these over, if you’d like. If you truly want my help planning a party, let me know. Otherwise…”

He glanced at the brochures, the rest of her statement hanging in the air, unfinished. That “otherwise” spoke volumes. He could hire her services as a party planner, but she didn’t plan to see him socially.

“I see,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“Goodbye, Parker.”

Hannah watched him stride toward the door. It was in her own best interests to let him go. And she was letting him go. It was better this way. A clean break from what could have turned out to be a disastrous relationship.

She covered her lips with three fingers, remembering how it had felt to kiss him. If she let him go, how would she ever know what might have been?

She didn’t need to know. It was for the best. For both of them.

She wondered if he’d really been burning the candle at both ends. Had there been shadows beneath his eyes?

“Parker?”

His fingers were already wrapped around the doorknob when he turned around. His eyes looked hooded. She couldn’t read their expression from here. “You forgot your brochures.”

He retraced his steps, taking the brochures from her outstretched hand. Praying she didn’t regret this, she took a breath for courage and said, “I can’t have lunch with you, but I could free up my schedule for this evening. We could talk about this party you suddenly want to have then.”

The eyes staring into hers filled with a curious intensity. “Dinner?” he asked.

She pushed her chair out and stood. “That would be too much like a date.”

There was a good reason for that, Parker thought. “What else did you have in mind?”

“Do you own a bike?”

“A motorcycle?”

She shook her head. “A bicycle.”

“Not since I was thirteen.”

“That’s what I thought. You probably don’t have a pair of in-line skates in the back of your closet, either. Something tells me you get your exercise playing racquetball or walking on a treadmill. I prefer more spontaneous activities.”

Parker had the strangest urge to defend himself.

“Maybe we could go for a walk,” she said.

“You want to take a walk?”

She smiled. “That sounds lovely. Thanks, I’d love to.”

Parker shook his head. She thought she was so smart. That was okay. He happened to like smart women. “I’ll stop by around seven.”

“You can if you want to, but I won’t be back until seven-thirty.” She was grinning openly now.

“Seven-thirty, it is.”

“Oh, and Parker? I have one small stipulation.”

Of course she did.

“You can’t try to arm wrestle me into using my influence to change my mother’s mind about going public with her engagement to Ryan.”

Parker took a frank and admiring look at her. Her hair was down today, her dress a creamy beige that seemed to blend in with her surroundings. She had a great body, but he was beginning to realize that in front of him stood a woman who preferred to be recognized for having a great mind.

“If we arm wrestle,” he said, his gaze delving hers, “it’ll be to determine how far we go.”

Leaving her to mull that over, he strode loftily out the door.

Three

“Look, Parker, there’s a paddleboat.”

Parker glanced at the contraption moored to the edge of the boardwalk that lined the San Antonio River. Yes, he supposed the apparatus floating on two plastic pontoons was in the paddleboat category. Why Hannah was hurrying toward it was beyond him. “Where are you going?”

She slowed down as she glanced over her shoulder, but he noticed she didn’t stop completely. “I heard they were going to try these out again along with the newer, motor-powered ones they’ve been using these past several years. Let’s take a boat ride. Hurry, before someone else beats us to it.”

Following her around a table of women who were lingering over desserts and iced teas along Paseo del Rio, or River Walk, a dining and shopping district in downtown San Antonio, Parker wondered if he was the only one who noticed that people weren’t exactly lining up to ride the leg-powered devices. He figured there was a good reason for that. It required energy, something that Hannah hadn’t run out of since they’d set off on their “little” walk an hour and a half ago.

It turned out he and Hannah had two entirely different approaches to walking. He’d expected a leisurely stroll down Smith Street, and had assumed that taking a walk involved walking. Hannah took flight. He’d planned to find a quiet table in a coffeehouse somewhere. Hannah had informed him that she didn’t drink coffee. It was the caffeine. It was bad for a person. When he got home, Parker was going to have to alert the press. If he had enough energy left to make it home.

She had more energy than she could contain.

She’d met him at the door wearing an airy brown skirt that rode low at the waist and stopped a few inches above her ankles. Once again, it wasn’t the color that drew his attention, but the fit and style. Her shirt bared her arms and part of her shoulders. It wasn’t tight, but it was cropped short at the waist. When she moved just right, he caught a glimpse of her navel. And the woman moved a great deal. If she ever found herself in need of another occupation, she could try her hand at modeling. Her mixture of wholesomeness and sensuality would undoubtedly sell everything from women’s jeans to lingerie.

He was imagining her in lingerie right now. A serious mistake for any man who needed to keep his wits about him.

Hannah stepped onto the paddleboat. The seat was wide enough for two people. It occurred to her that Parker wasn’t excited about climbing off the boardwalk and sitting on the other half of the seat. He appeared lost in thought, the same breeze that lifted the hair off her shoulders trifling with the collar of his knit shirt. “Are you coming?” she asked.

He slid his hands to his hips, peering first one way and then the other. “How far do you want to go?”

She stared up at him, remembering when he’d said they would have to arm wrestle to determine that. His gaze warmed at least ten degrees as it slid over her, letting her know he was thinking the same thing. Oh, no, he didn’t. She wasn’t touching that line.

“There’s a little ice-cream store just beyond that curve in the river.” She pointed to a series of lights upriver, but wound up waving at another paddleboat coming their way.

“I don’t recall seeing an ice-cream place in the area.”

“It’s been there forever. I thought you said you grew up in San Antonio.”

“My family wasn’t the type to go out for ice cream.”

This was the first time he’d mentioned his family all evening. She’d met his father, the legendary J. D. Malone, at Lily and Ryan’s party. She’d be hard pressed to say for sure whether she liked or disliked the man.

“My family didn’t always have a lot of money for things like going to ice-cream parlors,” she said. His eyes narrowed, and she threw up her hands. “My mother isn’t after Ryan’s money, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say she was.”

“You didn’t have to. My brother’s an attorney. I know how your minds work. My mother may have been poor as a child, but there’s no disgrace in that. She and my father worked hard in the grocery store they owned back in Leather Bucket. There’s no disgrace in working hard, either. After my father died, my mother went back to college. She’s perfectly capable of earning her own living on what she makes as manager of special functions at the Willow Creek Hotel. She’s marrying Ryan because she loves him.”

In some far corner of her mind, Hannah was aware that Parker had taken the seat next to her, but she didn’t consciously acknowledge his presence until her voice had trailed away and the only sound was that of the water falling over the paddlewheel at the back of their boat. She glanced up at him. He was looking at her in silence, making no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he was watching her.

“Sometimes I get a little carried away defending the people I love.”

“I like a woman who gets carried away.”

Hannah knew better than to comment. She was becoming well enough acquainted with him to realize that Parker Malone rarely spoke without thinking. There were layers to what he said, hidden meanings, underlying messages. Cole was like that to an extent. Maybe all attorneys were. Her brother was good at what he did, and Hannah was proud of him, but Parker took innuendo farther than anyone she’d ever known.

“Let’s get this boat moving, shall we?” she asked, manning the steering lever between them.

At five feet seven, she’d always considered her legs long, but Parker’s were longer. He might have complained a little about the distance they’d come, but he hadn’t so much as broken a sweat from the exertion. His flat-front khakis and navy-blue shirt were the kinds of clothes hundreds of sharp, young executive types wore, but Parker’s hugged muscles that were obviously accustomed to a good workout. She wondered what drove him. She wanted to know everything about him, but she was beginning to realize that information of a personal manner was seldom forthcoming.

She steered around a paddleboat that was drifting slowly down the river, a Just Married sign on the back, the man and woman lost in a long, searing kiss. Once they were out of hearing range, Hannah whispered, “When my sister and I were little, we used to sing ‘first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Johnny pushing a baby carriage’ every time we saw a couple kissing like that.”

Hannah’s thoughts became introspective. There were fond memories of good times and shared secrets between her and Maria. A few.

“In five years,” Parker was saying, his deep voice drawing her out of her musings, “they’ll be fighting over who gets to keep the baby carriage.”

Hannah shook her head. “You’re a natural born romantic, Parker.”

“I’m a realist.”

“I don’t have my thesaurus handy. Is that another word for pessimist?”

“If it isn’t, it should be.”

They’d reached the landing area in front of the trendy ice-cream store. Parker stepped out and moored the boat to a little pier, but Hannah made no move to climb onto the lighted dock. “You make divorce sound inevitable.”

He brushed his hands on his thighs. “Fifty percent of all marriages in this country end in divorce. In other words, half of the people who have stars in their eyes when they come to you will be shooting daggers at each other by the time they come to me.”

She took the hand he held out to her and stepped onto the dock. His cynicism was more difficult to accept. “What about the other fifty percent?”

“I didn’t invent the statistics, Hannah. I’m only repeating them.”

The river swirled by, lapping at the paddleboat, splashing softly against the pier. Hannah was very aware of the color of the sky in the deepening twilight, of the warmth of Parker’s hand around hers, and the directness of his gaze. “Do you still want that ice cream?” he asked.

She shook her head. The ice-cream parlor had merely been a destination. Now, she wanted to make him understand. Better yet, she wanted to change his mind about his views on marriage. “All your statistics don’t seem to be slowing people down,” she said. “My day planner is full of names of couples who still believe in marriage. It seems as if I’m invited to a bridal shower every other week. I’d just come from one the first time we met. It was where I’d received that embarrassing little package of consolation prizes.”

He released her hand. As if by unspoken agreement, they started back toward Smith Street. “I thought those little numbers were only passed around at bachelor parties.”

“Men pass out condoms at bachelor parties?”

“It’s been known to happen.”

This was a subject that had always made her curious. “What else do men do at those things?”

“Telling you would require using obscenities.”

She looked up at him in silent expectation.

“I don’t talk dirty to a woman so early in a relationship.”

“We’re not having a relationship.”

“If you’d agree to come home with me, that would change.”

The deep cadence of his voice was as dusky as a whisper, as sensuous as a kiss placed ever so softly on her bare shoulder.

“Do you play chess, Hannah?”

Hmm. Her steps slowed and her breathing deepened. She was trying to follow the course the conversation was taking, really she was, but a young woman with dark hair and a skintight dress drew her attention. Why, it almost looked like Maria.

“Or are you more the arm-wrestling type?”

What would Maria be doing in San Antonio? She never came to the city anymore. Hannah’s heart beat a little harder. She loved her younger sister, and she ached for a glimpse of her. She wanted so much more.

“Hannah?”

“Hmm?”

“Is everything all right?”

She glanced up at Parker, and then back at the sidewalk across the street. She’d lost the young woman in the glare of headlights. Hannah surveyed the entire area. There were other dark-haired women out and about, but the woman in the brightly colored dress was nowhere to be seen.

“I’m fine,” she told Parker. “I thought I saw someone I knew.”

She told herself it couldn’t have been Maria. Surely there were a lot of women in San Antonio who bore the dark, exotic traits of their Apache and Mexican parentage. And Maria certainly wasn’t the only girl in Texas who had a walk she claimed measured seven point five on the Richter scale.

“An old flame?”

She tried to recall how the conversation had gone from bachelor parties to old flames. They’d reached an intersection a few blocks away from The Pink Flamingo. Waiting for the crossing signal, she studied Parker’s profile. His nose was straight, his chin was well defined and set at an angle that was the epitome of smugness. He glanced down, his gaze homing in on hers.

“Not an old flame. My sister. But it wasn’t. Either of those things. An old flame, I mean, or Maria.”

Hannah wondered when she’d become daft. While she was at it, she wondered when she’d been so drawn to a man she had no business being drawn to. She was so caught up in what was happening between her and Parker that she didn’t notice the voluptuous redhead until she’d sauntered up to Parker, ran a long, bloodred fingernail along his cheek, and slipped something into his pocket. She wiggled her hips, winked, puckered up her painted lips and kissed the air near Parker’s cheek.

With a quirk of her eyebrows, Hannah watched her saunter away. Oh, no, Maria most definitely did not have sole rights to provocative moves and gestures.

The Walk signal came on. Ignoring it, Hannah reached blithely into Parker’s pocket, pulling out a skimpy pair of panties. “How sweet.”

“That isn’t what it looks like.”

Hannah lifted her gaze to his. “This isn’t a pair of silk, thong bikini panties?”

“Silk? Really?”

She batted his hand away. “It’s white, but in this case I doubt it’s virginal.”

Parker regarded the item in Hannah’s hand. She was right. Paula was definitely no virgin. “All right. It’s what it looks like, but it isn’t what you’re thinking.”

“Then, she isn’t a friend of yours?”

“A client, actually. A former one. Paula’s just trying to show her appreciation.”

“For what, pray tell?”

The unusual combination of vitality and sarcasm in Hannah’s expression made it difficult for Parker not to smile. His heartbeat sounded in his own ears as they started across the street, hurrying at the prodding of a car horn.

Reluctant to release her elbow even though they’d reached the other side, he said, “I won her ten thousand dollars a month, the summer place, the winter condo in Florida, and if I remember correctly, the family poodle.”

“What did the husband get?”

“Let’s just say he’s never slipped a pair of his Jockey shorts into my pocket.”

“I’m relieved to hear it. Tell me, Parker…never mind.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“It’s none of my business.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

They’d reached the sidewalk in front of The Perfect Occasion. She stared up at him, but she didn’t finish her question. He answered as if she had. “No, I don’t, Hannah.”

Her eyes must have shown her surprise, because he said, “That’s what you wanted to know, wasn’t it? If I sleep with my female clients?”

Some would call her a fool for believing him, but her instincts told her he was telling the truth. After all, he might have jumped to the wrong conclusion when they’d first met, but he hadn’t taken her up on what he’d thought she was proposing.

“Or were you wondering if I sleep with every woman who slips her underwear into my pocket? Why don’t you try it and find out?”

“That isn’t my style.”

He seemed to be assessing her statement. “Your style of panties? Or your style of invitations?”

She fought a valiant battle not to smile. And lost. “Neither.”

“Pity.”

The streetlight cast a white glow over Parker, deepening the blue of his eyes, making his smile appear stark and white and oh, so inviting.

“I like what you’re thinking.”

She closed her gaping mouth. Could the man read her mind?

“I want to see you again. Say you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night.”

She shook her head, fitting her key into the lock. “We’re complete opposites.”

He took the key from her hand and opened the door. The man had smooth down to an art form. “Opposites attract.”

She chided herself for falling into that one. “This is a good place to end our walk, Parker.”

“I can think of a better place.”

She was on the first of two steps that led to another door, which ultimately led to her apartment above the boutique. “I’m not looking for a fling. I’m not into casual sex.”

“There would be nothing casual about the sex we’d have.”

Her breath came out in a rush. “You’re presumptuous.”

“I’m honest.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I honestly want you, Hannah. But I’ll settle for getting to know you better. For now. Invite me upstairs.”

He was standing so close she could feel his breath on her hair. Hannah loved summertime. She loved the heat, the intensity, the vibrancy of it; she didn’t even mind the humidity, but suddenly, she felt too warm. She couldn’t seem to come up with the word no, couldn’t seem to think, couldn’t seem to move.

Parker had no such problem. He tried another key, and opened the second door. “We can discuss the party, have a cup of—that’s right, you don’t drink coffee, it’s the caffeine—decaf. I can invite you to dinner, you can say yes, and then you can kiss me.”

Before she knew how it had happened, she was raising her face to his, and kissing him, exactly as he’d said. He hadn’t coached her about touching him, so that must have been her own idea. What an idea it was. He felt like a dream, but he was solid, hard, real. His shirt bunched in her fingers; heat radiated outward from his chest, his arms, his shoulders, warming her hands everywhere she touched.

One minute they were standing on the stairs behind a closed door; the next thing she knew she was sprawled on top of him on the stairs, a tangle of arms and legs, hearts racing, breathing erratic, mouths joined. His hand inched between their bodies, covering her breast. She arched toward him, passion rising up in her, clouding her brain.

She couldn’t control her gasp of pleasure at the feel of his mouth at her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt and the lace of her bra. She grasped his head, and whispered his name, only to groan slightly when the corner of the step jabbed into her back.

“Let’s go upstairs.” His voice was a husky murmur, at one with the tremor he’d started deep inside her. He rolled her on top of him, so that she straddled his legs. The level of intimacy in their positions was about to go through the roof.

She had to stop.

She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted to feel his mouth on her naked skin.

“Hannah?”

Her head was spinning, but she heard herself say, “No, Parker.”

He went very still.

“We don’t even know each other,” she whispered. “And we just can’t do this. I just can’t do this.”

She felt the change that came over him. He stiffened. Not with anger, but with quiet acceptance. “I know I should apologize, but that felt too good, and I’m afraid I’m just not sorry.”

He’d said he was honest. Tugging at the hem of her shirt, she stood. He climbed to his feet much more slowly. She noticed he didn’t ask her to invite him upstairs again, but he wanted to. It was there in his eyes, in his deeply drawn breath and the grim set of his jaw.

“We never got around to discussing that party you mentioned this afternoon,” she said conversationally.

He quirked an eyebrow in her direction.

She shrugged. “I was trying to take your mind off it.”

To his credit, he didn’t say, “It?” But he might as well have. Hannah made a valiant effort not to smile.

Parker’s heart was still racing, his breathing was still deep. No wonder. He was still in the throes of a strong, swirling passion, and her “barely there” grin wasn’t helping. It wasn’t like him to lose control. Hell, he was thirty-one years old, not eighteen.

It was probably a good thing one of them had kept their wits about them. Probably. He bent one knee in an effort to ease the fit of his pants. It was going to take him a couple of minutes to get himself completely under control.

“I’ve always heard it’s helpful to think about negative things.”

Under other circumstances, there would have been something enchanting in her humor. “Unspent desire is negative,” he said.

She smoothed a hand down her skirt, and sat again, patting the space next to her. As he lowered to a sitting position on the steps, she said, “Perhaps it would be better to think more along the lines of a cash flow problem, or maybe the inflation rate, or world hunger, maybe, or family difficulties.”

He scowled.

Aha, she’d hit a nerve. “Tell me about your family.”

“There’s not a lot to tell.”

“There’s always a lot to tell when it comes to family. Everybody thinks their family is the only one with problems, but I think pretty much every family has its eccentricities.”

He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Come on, Parker, give it your best shot.”

His sigh was long and loud. “I grew up in your basic bitter, all-American dysfunctional family. One father, one mother, one sister. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of doors slamming, a lot of accusations and recriminations. My parents divorced when I was eight. I lived with my father, my sister lived with our mother. And everyone nurtured the bitterness for all it was worth.”

“Time hasn’t helped?” she asked.

“My sister hasn’t spoken to my father since my mother’s funeral, five years ago. Even then, it wasn’t pretty.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Do you ever talk to your sister?”

She felt his shrug near her own shoulder. “Not often. She’s stubborn. Won’t accept my help. I guess you could say Beth and I aren’t close.”

“My sister and I aren’t close, either.”

“Ah, yes, the ever-elusive Maria.”

Hannah’s strained relationship with her only sister was her greatest sadness, greater even than the loss of her big, burly, gentle father ten years ago. For a moment she’d let her guard down, forgetting that Parker put as much thought and effort into obtaining divorces for his clients as she put into planning weddings for hers. His description of Maria reminded Hannah that she and Parker weren’t on the same side when it came to her mother’s marriage to Ryan. Parker was Ryan’s divorce attorney. She was Lily’s wedding planner.

“My parents were happily married, Parker. They were living proof that marriages can survive obstacles, heartaches, hard times, and that the two people involved can grow more deeply in love over time.”

That’s what she wanted. To love, honor and cherish the man she eventually married. Until death. Apparently, Parker didn’t believe in love or in marriage. She remained pensive, deep in thought.

“Tell me,” she said quietly sometime later. “Have you always felt this way about marriage? Or has your profession tainted your view?”

He slid his palm over the fabric covering his knee. “It has nothing to do with being tainted. People are born. For the next twenty or thirty years, they’re single. They get married. Ultimately, they get divorced. Eventually, they die. Some people repeat a couple of those steps. Once was enough for me.”

She turned her head fast, but the implication rendered her speechless. He’d been married? Once? When? Was he still married?

He caught her looking at his left hand. “I’ve been divorced for almost four years. But you’re right,” he said, glancing into her eyes, and then at her lips. “Talking about the negative side of life has done the trick.”

He moved fast, but she still should have seen the kiss coming. His lips moved over hers swiftly, intensely, masterfully, but only briefly.

“Although that,” he said while her mind was still spinning, “had the potential to reverse some of the progress. I’ll call you tomorrow. We can discuss our plans for dinner then. Good night, Hannah.”

She rose to her feet, then stood perfectly still. Her heart pounded an erratic rhythm. It came from trying to keep up with a man as sharp and witty as Parker. It came from trying to listen to every word he said, no matter how quickly he said it. It came from the fact that he’d been married. Once, he’d said, had been enough.

She sat back down on the step, landing with a heavy little thud about the same time the outer door closed behind him.

There was exhilaration in Parker’s step as he left Hannah’s building. He’d gotten the last word, and he’d gotten the last kiss. Hannah had been so surprised she’d failed to turn down his invitation to dinner. Earlier, she’d been the one with all the exuberant energy. She’d turned that energy on him, and frankly, he could hardly wait to give her the opportunity to do it again.

He’d rounded the corner and was heading for his car when he noticed a woman hiding in the shadows. Probably in her mid-twenties, she seemed nervous, jumpy. Guilty? He didn’t get a good enough look at her face to make that kind of determination because she spun around the instant she noticed him, her feet carrying her away quickly.

She disappeared down a narrow alley, leaving behind a hazy impression of dark hair and a brightly colored, skintight dress that reminded him of a neon sign, garish and gaudy. In comparison, Hannah was all subtle nuances and sultry sighs, as inviting as deep evening shade.

Maria Cassidy placed a hand slightly above her flat stomach and breathed deeply. Holding very still, she listened for the sound of footsteps behind her. All was quiet.

That had been a close one, she thought, letting out a long breath. She’d nearly panicked when she’d seen Hannah coming toward her a little while ago. For a second there she’d been afraid her older sister had recognized her.

Maria’s lips thinned. Hannah thought she was so smart. Boring, that’s what she was. All her life, all she’d done was lecture Maria about the importance of studying and furthering her education. Hannah didn’t know how to have fun. She didn’t know how to dress, that was for sure. Maria couldn’t begin to fathom what the man with the impressive biceps, long, lithe legs and interesting face saw in Hannah. Her sister usually only attracted computer geeks and nerds.

When she’d first seen Hannah and the man disappear behind closed doors, Maria had thought that maybe Hannah had changed. She should have known Miss High and Mighty wouldn’t know how to keep a man busy for more than five minutes. She was probably still a virgin, for God’s sake.

Not Maria. She’d always known what a woman’s body was made for. She had breasts to die for. Men used to tell her that all the time. It had been a while since she’d heard it. Oh, how she missed it.

Lately her life had gotten out of control.

Why couldn’t things just go her way for once? Nothing ever did. And she was so tired of working, so tired of living in that awful trailer in Leather Bucket. So tired of people who refused to take her seriously.

Just look at her. She was only twenty-three. She should have been having fun. She’d found the perfect way to get ahead and make those uppity Fortunes give the Cassidys their due. Her mother had refused to listen. So had Cole and Hannah. So Maria had taken things into her own hands. It had been a good plan. Brilliant. But then things had gone wrong. So wrong.

Now she was stuck in that dingy trailer in the dowdiest town in the country, working two menial jobs to make ends meet. And when she wasn’t working, she was taking care of the baby. Life had been so much easier when she was a child.

She’d felt a tiny pang of homesickness when she’d first happened to glimpse Hannah. For a moment she’d wanted to go to her older sister the way she had when they were kids. Back then she used to give in to the loneliness and unhappiness that had dogged her whole life and knock on Hannah’s door. Good old boring Hannah was usually studying, but she always smiled at Maria, and invited her in. Sometimes, Hannah would brush Maria’s hair for a long time. Maria would stare at her reflection in the mirror, mesmerized, smiling only when Hannah told her she was pretty.

“But remember, Maria,” Hannah used to whisper. “Pretty is as pretty does.”

Maria rolled her eyes all these years later. What did Hannah know?

Maria was the one who was going to have the last laugh. She was! Her plan to present the Fortunes with an offspring had gone awry. She had spent months trying to get into one of the younger Fortune’s bed in order to get pregnant. It had all been for nothing. She’d been forced to go to a sperm bank for what she’d needed. It hadn’t been fun, but she hadn’t done it for pleasure. She’d done it to ensure that at least one Cassidy got what she deserved: a portion of the Fortune dynasty.

At last it had seemed as if something had gone right. She’d know that a certain Fortune bachelor had donated to a sperm bank years before, and she had asked for just the right donor profile… All she’d had to do was have her baby, and wait for the right time to present the Fortunes with another heir.

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