# Fortune's Hero

Susan Crosby

Garrett Stone was Victoria Fortune’s hero.It has been months since the rugged cowboy saved her from the rubble of a tornado. She wants to know the man… But Garrett has a shadowed past and can’t accept the glow he sees in her eyes… It’s clear – now is her time to rescue him!

“I came here to thank you for saving my life.”

“You told me three months ago.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kissed me. Pretty much said it all. Can’t say it was the best kiss I’ve ever had planted on me, but I got what you were meaning by it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I’d wanted to kiss you in a memorable way, I would’ve, but I guarantee you I put more emotion into that one kiss than any other I’ve given.”

“Well, isn’t that a sorry state of affairs.”

“I’m a good kisser!”

“If you say so, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Have a safe drive back to town.” He walked away from her.

Dear Reader,

Anniversary celebrations aren’t just for marriages. And as I write this, I’m marking the anniversary of being offered my first book contract, eighteen years ago. Since then I’ve written thirty-six books. It still amazes me, every single day. The pleasure and privilege of creating a piece of work for others to read never fades.

Creating this particular book has been especially gratifying. Taking an independent Texas cowboy who’s much happier among stray dogs and horses, and pairing him with a society-born much younger woman was fun and challenging. I love that Garrett Stone is clear about what he wants and doesn’t want in life. Even more, I love how Victoria Fortune makes him change his very set mind.

I hope you enjoy taking their journey with them.

Susan Crosby

## About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

## Fortune’s Hero. Susan Crosby

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Bobbie and Ernie, The Cowgirl and Her Prince.

You wrote your own romance,

and you did it so well! With love to you both.

## Chapter One

“Keep away from those cowboys, they’re ramblin’ men…”

The lyrics to the country song popped into her head the moment she saw the tall, blue-eyed man striding past her in the terminal of the small and private, but busy, Red Rock, Texas, airport.

He caught her staring, hesitated a second, then winked. Definitely the rambling type and one to stay away from. He touched a finger to his black Stetson and just like that he was gone, the moment over.

Then the tornado hit. That black hat was the last thing she saw before the roof was ripped from above her, the roar of air sucking everything within, including her, pulling her, dragging her. Around her, wood and metal flew and crashed, ricocheted and bounced.

Pain hit first, then panic. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t fill her lungs enough to scream. Noise. So much noise. Then suddenly no sound at all.

The quiet was almost as frightening. Gradually she heard crying, someone screaming, others calling out.

Her face was pressed against the cold concrete floor. She tried to move but couldn’t. The sound of someone running toward her crept into her awareness. A man flattened himself next to her, his face in shadows—her hero, whoever he was.

“You okay?” he asked.

“My legs hurt,” she managed to say, wiggling her toes and feeling them move inside her high-heeled boots, the rubble preventing leg movement.

He sprang up.

She grabbed for him, caught thin air. “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t—”

But he didn’t leave. Weight was lifted from her, twisted metal, lumber and laminate.

“Can you drag yourself out?” he asked, this giant of a man who’d single-handedly raised the wreckage. “Hurry. There’s not much time. You can do it, sweetheart. Try.”

There was nothing to grab. Her useless polished fingernails dug but found no traction. She caught her breath against the unexpected pain of moving and exerted herself a little more, tried to belly crawl like a solider. Just when she thought she was going to be stuck there forever, he gripped her arm and yanked her from under the debris. Her feet cleared the mess a second before it came tumbling down. He scooped her into his strong arms and rushed away as the whole building creaked and moaned.

Panic set in. “My family…?” she asked.

He angled his head. “Over there.”

She’d just started identifying relatives when part of the building they’d left crumbled with a final whoomph. If he’d been a minute later, she’d have been buried alive. She clenched him tighter, too shocked to say anything.

“I’ve got you,” the stranger said. “You’re safe.”

The cowboy, she realized finally. The man who’d winked at her. She hadn’t recognized him without his hat.

“Help will come soon,” he said, his voice comforting.

She looked up as he set her down. An eerily calm sky replaced portions of the roof of the two-story structure. She’d been sitting on the other side of the room. How far had she been pulled—or thrown?

“You think you can stand on your own?” he asked.

“I think so.” Her eyes were level with his chest. She focused hypnotically on the bolo tie he wore, silver and onyx, before looking up at him.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, releasing her, understanding in his eyes.

Before he could abandon her, she grabbed him by his bolo and tugged him down for a quick, hard, thank-you-for-saving-me kiss, over as soon as it started. Her heart lodged in her throat, damming up the words trapped inside. She couldn’t even ask his name—or tell him hers.

He cupped her shoulders and moved back. For an instant his eyes met hers, then he was running away from her. Paralyzed, she didn’t budge for a minute, then she finally focused on her surroundings. It looked like a war zone. Some of her family were sitting in shock; some were running around. Suitcases were scattered everywhere. What had once been a small plane lay nose-down not twenty feet from where she’d been sitting before the tornado hit.

When she turned back to the terminal she saw no sign of the cowboy. Transfixed, she moved toward the luggage, thinking to stack it all together, needing something to do. Then she heard sirens approach and she staggered toward the sound, waving—

Victoria Fortune jerked awake, sweating, her sheets tangled, her long, dark hair stuck to her skin. She’d had the dream again, the same vivid but increasingly detailed dream. The tornado had struck on December 30 in Red Rock, Texas. She’d been headed home after being a bridesmaid in her cousin Wendy’s wedding. Now, three months later, Victoria was safe in her own bed, in her own condo, in her hometown of Atlanta, Georgia. Three months, and she was still dreaming about it.

And him. She didn’t even know his name, never even thanked him, the man who could’ve died with her that day but who’d rescued her without regard to his own safety.

She was sick of it, physically ill from the constant nightmares and loss of sleep. Even during the day she was assaulted by visions of the destruction and the surreal feel of the tornado sweeping her across the floor.

Maybe it’d been even worse this time because she’d talked to her cousin Jordana last night, who’d suffered her own traumas, and they’d agreed Victoria should go to Red Rock so they could deal with their problems together. Support each other. Be there for each other.

Victoria glanced at the clock then threw off the covers, realizing she needed to start packing for her late-morning flight. She was going to face the past and deal with her near-death experience. She also needed to thank her hero, which was long overdue.

But first she called her parents to tell them she wouldn’t be attending the requisite family Sunday brunch.

“The pew was mostly empty this morning,” her father, James Marshall Fortune, said when he answered the phone.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I overslept.”

“You party too much,” he said gruffly but softly. As the youngest child and only daughter, Victoria got away with more than her four brothers could. Occasionally she used that to her advantage.

“What constitutes ‘too much’?” Victoria asked sweetly, making an effort with her beloved father. Even he had been openly worried about her.

“Ha! We’ll wait for you. Your brothers aren’t all here yet, either. Only Shane.”

Victoria wandered onto the balcony off her bedroom. She was on the fifteenth floor. “I’m not coming at all, Daddy. I’m heading to Red Rock in a couple of hours.”

“I thought you’d decided to skip that party.”

“I did skip it. The party was last night, but Jordana and Emily are still at Wendy’s house. We’re going to have a little girl time, just us four cousins. Well, plus Wendy’s new husband and baby. Please tell Shane I’m taking a few days of vacation, all right?”

“Your brother is your boss. If you need time off, you need to square it with him yourself. And I’m sure your mother will have something to say.”

“Yes, sir.” Her father made it sound like she was a sixteen-year-old kid instead of a twenty-four-year-old college graduate who lived alone and held down a good job—if she could hold on to it. She hadn’t been pulling her own weight for a while now.

“Shane overheard and says that’s good news,” her mother said, coming onto the line. “What’s going on, honey?”

Victoria repeated what she’d said to her father.

“You’re still having bad dreams,” her mother said.

“Yes, ma’am. They’re not going away on their own.”

“What about that man—that cowboy who rescued you? Are you going to see him?”

“I need to thank him. It’s been haunting me that I haven’t. I think that’s part of my problem.”

“I can see where it could help. Are you taking the company jet?”

Victoria closed her eyes. “I’d have to land at Red Rock Airport, and I’m not ready for that. I’ll fly into San Antonio and rent a car.”

“Call me if you need me. I think it’s good you’re doing this, sugar. Important. You’ve looked so tired.”

“Thanks, Mom.” But it was more than good, Victoria thought. It was necessary. She hadn’t been able to deal with molehills lately, much less mountains.

Hours later she drove into downtown Red Rock, then pulled up in front of Marcos and Wendy Mendoza’s pretty three-bedroom house. Wendy had been working her magic on the place, transforming it from bachelor pad to family home, a fun mix of contemporary and cottage styles. She’d been gardening, too, Victoria could tell. What had been barren at the time of the wedding in December now bloomed with welcoming spring beauty.

Wendy burst onto the front porch. At twenty-two, she was two years younger than Victoria, and she sported the same long brown hair and eyes. She was more openly bubbly than Victoria, but as first cousins, they’d been as close as sisters. So were Jordana and Emily, Wendy’s sisters.

“Where’s the star of this show?” Victoria asked, hugging Wendy.

“Sleeping. Finally,” Wendy answered. “Marcos is working.”

“And your sisters?” Victoria asked as they stepped into the house.

“Emily went for a walk. Jordana left.”

Victoria stopped. “She left? When? Why? I talked to her just last night. She said she would wait for me.”

“I don’t know what happened. She took off right after lunch. Honestly, Vicki, Jordana was acting weird the whole time she was here. Em noticed it, too. We’re worried about her. Did she tell you what’s going on?”

She had, but Victoria couldn’t tell Jordana’s secrets. Victoria made a noncommittal sound as she checked her cell phone for messages, finding none from Jordana.

“You can bunk with Em instead of at the hotel now that Jordana’s gone. Would you like some tea?” Wendy asked. “We could sit on the sunporch for a while.”

“Yes, fine,” Victoria said, trying to drum up some enthusiasm for Wendy’s sake.

“Meet you on the porch in a minute.” She laid a hand on Victoria’s arm. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just fine. Why is everyone asking me that?” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “I’m sorry, Wendy. I really am. I don’t know if I’m all right. I know I haven’t been myself. I’m hoping this trip will be the vacation I need.”

Victoria carried her suitcase into the guest room. How could Jordana leave without a word to her? They needed each other.

And she needed the name of her rescuer. Needed to see him, thank him. She wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat, but she knew good manners indicated she should spend time with her hostess first.

Victoria peeked into the baby’s room, caught a glimpse of a tiny pink bundle in the bassinet, then tiptoed out, afraid of waking six-week-old MaryAnne.

“I’m surprised that Emily is still here,” Victoria said to Wendy as they sat in the glassed-in sunporch. “She’s been staying with you for weeks. How long can she stay away from work?”

“I’ve stopped asking her that question. I figure she knows what she’s doing. She’s been a huge help since we brought MaryAnne home. She was so tiny, you know, as premature as she was, but so perfect. Emily’s a natural mom. She steadied me.” Wendy looked around. “Honestly, though, I think Marcos is looking forward to the three of us becoming a family on our own.”

Victoria sat up straight. “Of course he wants that. You must, too.” Just like all she wanted was to talk to the stranger who’d saved her. “I’ll encourage Em to go home, and I’ll move to the hotel. We’re being so—”

“Stop. Please, Vicki, I didn’t mean right this second. Marcos is glad I’ve had company since he works such long hours at the restaurant. I just meant that I think we’re both ready to establish our own routine. But not this week. Not yet.”

“Well, I only plan to stay a few days. I’ll get Em to leave with me, too.”

“It’s not necessary, Vicki. Really. I think she’s hiding out here, but I’m not sure why. And then there’s Jordana—”

“Who is the biggest mystery of all,” Emily said, coming into the room. She was tall, blonde and green-eyed, yet she also had the Fortune look about her. “Hey, Vicki.” She bent to give her cousin a hug while eyeing Wendy. “I’m not hiding out here, sister mine. I’ve been helping. I’ve also been working from here. You look like crap, Vicki.”

“Thank you so much.”

Emily shrugged. “Is MaryAnne still sleeping?”

“Like a baby,” Wendy said with a grin.

The women settled into conversation, as they had all their lives. Their fathers were brothers, highly successful, self-made financial geniuses in Atlanta, each owning separate companies that weren’t in competition with each other. It was amazing, actually, that the cousins got along so well, considering that their fathers did not. At family events, the brothers ignored each other. Only the two men knew what was behind their estrangement.

“So, Vicki,” Emily said, “why did you come today instead of in time for the party last night?”

Because my sanity depended on it. “Jordana and I talked last night, and it just seemed like the right time.”

“Did she tell you what’s going on with her?”

“Going on?” Victoria asked innocently.

Wendy and Emily exchanged glances. “She doesn’t look well,” Emily said. “In fact, she looks worse than you. We’re really worried.”

“I think she’s fine,” Victoria answered. “She’s dealing with some stuff. No, don’t ask. She’s not sick. Wendy,” she said, changing the subject. She couldn’t wait a second longer. “Did Marcos ever figure out who got me out from under the debris? I would like to talk to him.”

“He’s pretty sure it must have been Garrett Stone.”

Garrett Stone. Her heart skipped a beat or two. She finally had a name to put to him, a strong name, solid. Heroic. “Where does he live?”

“He’s got a ranch—although I’m using the term loosely—outside town called Pete’s Retreat. He’s born-and-bred Red Rock, but he’s left town a couple of times, for several years at a time. There’ve been rumors about him, apparently.”

“Like what?”

“For one thing, he was involved in some kind of scandal years ago with a young woman. That forced him to leave town the first time. For another, no one knows how he makes a living. Plus he’s a loner. He’s got dogs and a few horses. Strays gravitate to him.”

Victoria remembered he was a man of few words, and also how his hands had been gentle on her.

Now that she was here, she wanted to get it over with. To see him. To thank him. To take back her life. “Could you give me directions to his place? I’d like to go there now.”

“I can call Marcos and ask,” Wendy said. “But I think it would be better if one of us went with you.”

“Why?”

“In case he’s rude or something.”

“Standing-on-the-porch-holding-a-shotgun rude or just brusque? He can’t be totally without civility. He saved my life, after all. And besides, I’m not without charm, you know,” she added, fluttering her eyelashes.

“I doubt anything in your past has prepared you for Garrett Stone,” Wendy said. “Face it, Vicki, the easy appeal you have comes from having led a charmed life. We all have. If you’re expecting him to welcome you with open arms and listen to you shower him with gratitude, you’re deluded. I gather people don’t venture out to his ranch. There must be a reason for that. I’m not sure he’ll be nice to you.”

“I’m not a princess,” Victoria said, crossing her arms. “If he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, so be it. At least I will have done what I need to.”

“Wow. You’ve really gotten snippy.”

Victoria dug for patience. “I’m sorry for my attitude. It’s just been weighing on me.”

“I see that. What I think is that you’ve got a big ol’ case of hero worship, some big fantasy you’ve worked up in your head about him without knowing the whole truth,” Emily said. “And although we may not wear crowns, we Fortune daughters have been protected and pampered since birth. You can’t deny that. But the men of Red Rock are different from the men in our social circle back home.”

“Meaning what?”

“Have you ever been rejected, Vicki?”

“Of course I have. But it’s not like this is a love connection, you know. I just have a few things to say.” Except that she’d been fantasizing about him, too, that he’d carried her far away, her hero.

Emily raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, then. At least you’ll know what to expect if you go there.”

Victoria frowned, thinking it over. She had been rejected. Maybe not by anyone who mattered, but then she’d never been in love, either. Perhaps because she’d never developed any long-term relationships, something that had irked her parents to no end. As old-fashioned as the notion was, she’d been expected to find a future husband while she was in college. Her parents were old-school, with traditional expectations, and she hadn’t lived up to them. It was different for her four older brothers, who were still single, their martial status not even an issue.

Armed with directions from Marcos, Victoria headed out twenty minutes later. She’d brought a bottle of eighteen-year-old single-malt, award-winning Scotch whiskey. She’d never tasted it herself, preferring sweet, fruity drinks, but the whiskey was praised by most men she knew.

It wasn’t a long drive, but an increasingly desolate one. Why anyone would want to live so far from civilization puzzled her. She liked her creature comforts, which meant shops and restaurants within walking distance and the theater and opera close enough to attend frequently. It was the reason why she lived in a condo in downtown Atlanta. She loved the action.

Finally she saw the mailbox Marcos had told her to watch for. She turned into the property. There was no sign announcing she’d arrived at Pete’s Retreat, no welcoming fence-lined driveway, just a long dirt path. After a minute, she spotted a corral with three horses, then some dogs began to bark, several rushing up to her car. She slowed way down, afraid of accidentally hitting one. Garrett Stone may take in strays, but he sure didn’t train them well. Or maybe he wasn’t home to call them off—

No. There he was, coming from a barn. Strolling, actually. Or maybe moseying, that slim-hipped stride she associated with cowboys, no-nonsense and no-hurry at the same time. He was as tall as she remembered, a foot taller than she, and she was five-four.

She stopped the car in front of his house, an old but well-maintained, single-story ranch style. He came to a halt in front of her vehicle and stared at her through the windshield, apparently not recognizing her. He still hadn’t called off the dogs, who barked and jumped. She felt imprisoned in her car.

Finally he made a motion with his hand and the dogs dropped to all fours and stopped barking. They sidled closer to him. With another hand motion, all but two dogs headed toward a barn.

Victoria opened the window and called out, “Hi! You probably don’t remember me. I’m Victoria Fortune. From the airport? The tornado?”

“I remember.” His face was shadowed by his hat, so she couldn’t judge his reaction, except she thought he was frowning.

“Will your dogs attack me if I get out of the car?”

“Probably not.”

She expected him to wink, as he had at the airport, but his expression never changed, no sign to indicate whether or not he was joking. Even though she felt unsure of her welcome, she grabbed her gift and opened the door. When the dogs didn’t growl, she climbed out, grateful she’d changed into jeans and boots so that she fit in better. Still he didn’t move.

“I was in the neighborhood…” she began. Nervous now, she brushed at some dust on her jeans, giving herself something to do, wishing he would pick up the conversation.

His mouth quirked, but whether it was a sign of annoyance or humor, she didn’t know.

She thrust the whiskey at him, apparently a little too hard. It hit him in the stomach and bounced off obviously strong abs. He grabbed for the container. The bottle fell—

He caught it at his knees.

“Whew!” she said, grinning. “Good catch.”

He eyed the container. If he knew how expensive it was, he didn’t indicate it; he just waited for her to speak. Or leave, she guessed.

“Maybe we could go inside?” she asked.

“Why?” he asked.

“I—I’d like to talk to you.”

“Here’s as good a place as any. You’re interrupting my work.”

“What do you do?”

“This ‘n that.”

She crossed her arms. He might look exactly like the man from the airport, but he no longer seemed like the winking type. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“Being the taciturn cowboy. Keeping the myth alive.”

“Taciturn. That’s a mighty big word, ma’am.”

Aha! There was a glimmer in his gorgeous blue eyes. He was just playing with her. He’d probably decided she was just another pretty face. “Something tells me you know its definition, but okay. You win. I came here to thank you for saving my life.”

“You told me three months ago.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You kissed me. Pretty much said it all. Can’t say it was the best kiss I’ve ever had planted on me, but I got what you were meaning by it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If I’d wanted to kiss you in a memorable way, I would’ve, but I guarantee you I put more emotion into that one kiss than any other I’ve given.”

“Well, isn’t that a sorry state of affairs.”

“I’m a good kisser!”

“If you say so, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Have a safe drive back to town.” He walked away from her.

She called out, “You know, cowboy, where I come from, it’s rude to walk out on a visitor.”

“Where I come from, princess,” he said over his shoulder, “it’s rude to drop in uninvited.”

## Chapter Two

Garrett didn’t slow his stride. His old hound Pete trotted beside him and kept looking back at the woman who’d audibly gasped her indignation at his abrupt dismissal. Truth was, she tempted him mightily, and he was afraid if he invited her in, even for just a second, he would fall under her spell. It was obvious that she was trouble with a capital T.

The moment he’d caught sight of her at the airport three months ago, he’d felt gut punched. A few seconds later he’d recovered enough to wink at her, but had kept walking because he’d been inclined to start up a conversation, which would’ve been a big mistake. She wasn’t his type at all, which had made it all the more baffling. Two birthdays from now he would turn forty. She looked barely out of college. She was petite and dark-haired, and he was partial to blonde and tall, or at least closer to his own six foot four than she was. She wore designer-chic clothes, even her jeans and boots had probably come from a boutique or something, and she’d already turned up her nose at the good Texas dust that had settled on her jeans as if she’d been contaminated.

He’d met plenty of high-maintenance women in his life. He’d learned to avoid them, especially after an experience a couple of years back with a woman named Crystal, one he’d like to forget, except for the lesson learned.

But he also liked women with curves. Give him more than a handful of a woman in his big bed and he was happy, especially if she was just passing through. He didn’t date women looking for long-term, and felt no need for conversation or companionship on a regular basis.

Sure, the petite Ms. Victoria Fortune of the Atlanta Fortunes was wife material—but not for him. She’d had stars in her eyes when she’d arrived a few minutes ago. He wasn’t sure what had caused them. Glorification of him as her hero, maybe? He’d never been a hero in anyone’s eyes before. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d been blamed for lots he didn’t do, just because people expected it.

He’d been a rabble-rouser in his youth, prone to bar fights and speeding tickets, but that’d been years ago. And then there was that incident with Jenny Kirkpatrick….

It hadn’t mattered that he’d been a teenager at the time—nor had he been the guilty party. Some reputations couldn’t be lived down, however, so he’d stopped trying.

Pete assumed his usual dog-sentinel post on the porch as Garrett let himself into his house. He decided to wait until Victoria was gone before resuming his work. When he didn’t hear her car start up, he set down the bottle of fine whiskey, peeked out a window and saw her leaning against her car, arms crossed, staring his direction. His collie-mix mutt, Abel, plopped next to her, his tail wagging, dust flying. Idly she petted him, then crouched and gave him a good scratch behind his ears, something Abel loved more than anything except a good belly rub. What male didn’t?

Picturing her hands sliding over his own body knotted him up good—and how the hell long was she gonna hang around when he’d specifically dismissed her?

Everyone knew Fortune women liked their luxuries, and they probably always got their way, too. Maybe she wouldn’t leave until he forced her off his property.

Well, she wouldn’t get her way here. Not with him.

Choking off a colorful oath, he opened his front door, jammed on his hat and strode across his yard. Abel stood and wagged his tail, looking a little guilty at being caught getting attention from another human.

And that human was looking at him like he was a rock star or something. Aw, hell.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“I’m not a princess,” she said calmly. “I came here because I dream about you every night.”

Gut punched again, he said nothing. He’d had a few dreams himself….

“Nightmares, really,” she added.

So much for hero worship. “You need professional help with that. You’re not gonna find that here.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But I’ve never been that close to death, Mr. Stone. So I decided to come see you, to thank you, with the hope that I can stop thinking about it, obsessing about it really. I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge the fact you saved my life and let me thank you properly for doing so. I’m sure I’ll be able to move on then.”

“And just how long does it take to say thank you?”

She cocked her head. “How long does it take to pour a glass of whiskey?”

She had sass, he gave her that. Sometimes that was a good quality in a woman.

“Are you of legal drinking age?”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Are you expected back right away?” he asked.

“I suppose my family will worry after a little while. Why?”

“Before we break open that whiskey, we need to go for a drive.”

“Where?” she asked, a touch of suspicion in her voice.

He angled closer. “Well, now, if you don’t trust me …”

Her eyes shimmered, eyes the color of chocolate diamonds and just as deep. “Let’s just say my entire family knows I’m here, so I don’t think trust is an issue,” she said.

“C’mon, then.” He crossed the yard to where his pickup sat, he could hear her boots crunching against the hard ground. He got into his truck, expecting she would climb in the passenger side on her own, since she wasn’t a princess. He smiled a little at that.

“Buckle up,” he said when she settled next to him.

They made the trip in silence, and he could feel her tension rise with every mile. Then when he made the last turn into Red Rock Airport, her fingers dug into the seat. Her eyes were glued on the structures ahead as he paused.

He sat still, letting her take in the view, letting her adjust to seeing the place where she’d almost been buried alive. Seeing the airport rebuilt should help her rebuild her own life.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, keeping his voice soft and low, treating her the same as any wounded animal who’d landed on his property.

She nodded. He admired her for that, for not making him coax her, for facing her demons. He came around the truck as she dropped onto the ground, then he walked toward the terminal. She caught up with him in a couple of seconds and gripped his hand, keeping up with him.

“The airport’s back to being used all the time,” he said. “They’re close to finishing the rebuilding.”

“How many people died?” she asked.

“Three.” He eyed her. “Could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Picking up a shipment that’d been airfreighted to me.” He opened the glass door to the terminal and took her inside with him. She squeezed his hand tighter, if that was even possible. “Clear skies, Victoria. Don’t worry.”

“Hey, Garrett!”

“Boyd,” Garrett said, acknowledging the jack-of-all-trades airport worker he’d known since grade school.

“Need somethin’?”

“I’m showing off the construction.”

Boyd waved a hand then walked away.

“It’s just a building,” Garrett said, feeling her start to shake.

“It was almost my tomb.”

His, too, but he didn’t remind her of that. He’d been able to tuck it away in his memories.

It was dark by the time they’d walked the entire place. She never let go of his hand, and he had to admit it was kinda nice holding it. Every now and then he noticed the sparkle of her nail polish, felt the softness of her skin against his rough hand and how small it was compared to his—all indicators of how different they were.

She was just as quiet on the drive back to his ranch. He hadn’t expected a miraculous recovery for her, but he’d thought maybe she would chat him up a bit. She petted Pete and Abel after she climbed out of his truck, crooning to them. Garrett wouldn’t admit to being jealous, but he felt … something.

“You still want that whiskey?” he asked.

She looked up at him. Her smile was calmer than when she’d first arrived. “Rain check?”

He didn’t answer because he didn’t expect to see her again. He walked her to her car, opened her door and waited for her to get inside and go. He was in a hurry for her to leave him in peace. He’d thought he’d buried his own memories, but being at the airport with her had brought them back in full. He could toss six feet of dirt over them again, but he needed quiet to do that. And for Ms. Victoria Fortune to be out of his sight.

“Thank you,” she said, a little quaver to her voice.

Aw, hell. She wasn’t gonna cry, was she? That he couldn’t deal with at all. “You drive safe now.”

She was staring at him, at his chest anyway. “You were wearing a bolo tie that day,” she said. “Silver and onyx. It was gorgeous.”

What he remembered was how she’d grabbed his tie and pulled him down to kiss him. He also remembered her perfume, sweet and spicy. She didn’t wear any today, and he liked that, too.

Finally she raised her gaze to connect with his, searching his eyes.

“Thank you for taking me there.” Then, surprising him, she reached up, locked her arms behind his neck and tugged him down as she raised up on tiptoe. He could’ve easily set her aside. Instead, he met her halfway and accepted her final gesture of appreciation. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot. When she tightened her hold on him, he did the same, pulling her body next to his, wrapping his arms around her, sliding his hands down to cup her rear.

Then Abel jumped up on him from behind and her cell phone rang at the same time, a double jolt of awareness to the situation they’d been about to put themselves in.

“I’d better answer that,” she said, stepping back to dig into her pocket, her hands shaking. “Someone’s probably worried.”

He backed off as she took the call, telling the person on the other end that she was on her way home. Then she tucked her phone away. He had no idea what to say, so he left it to her because his next move would be to haul her to bed.

“I should go,” she said. She climbed into her car and started the engine. Her smile turned mischievous, the dull glaze in her eyes replaced with more clarity. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t a good kisser,” she said pertly, then she gave him an indecipherable look through the windshield as she backed up to turn around. She waved as she drove off.

His body was like granite. He hadn’t been this on edge for a long time. He was usually the one with the last word, too. She’d caught him off guard. That was also rare.

Maybe he’d helped her with her post-tornado trauma, but she’d given him something to dream about.

It was the last thing he wanted.

Red Rock’s most upscale restaurant, Red, was situated in the heart of downtown. Wendy’s husband, Marcos Mendoza, managed the restaurant that was owned by his aunt and uncle. It was where Marcos and Wendy had met. She’d been exiled, as she referred to it, from the family business in Atlanta and sent to Red Rock to work for one of the Fortune businesses to discover her talent. She eventually ended up at Red, first as a waitress, then finding her calling as a dessert chef.

The original building was a converted, very old hacienda rumored to have belonged to relatives of the infamous General Santa Anna. It had been rebuilt after a fire but still featured an inside courtyard with a water fountain and several dining areas, both public and private.

Stepping into the main dining room, Victoria admired the rich, colorful decor and peaceful aura. Wendy had urged her and Emily to get out of the house for a while, and Marcos had insisted they have a spectacular dessert on him at Red. They’d argued it was unnecessary, but Wendy had prevailed. She couldn’t take MaryAnne out in public for at least two more weeks, according to the pediatrician. She would go to bed when the baby did, and she wanted Emily and Victoria to have some fun.

They sat at the bar, where they had a good view of the restaurant that was a little too understated to be called a “fun” spot. It was a place to gather or go on a date, but not a mix-and-mingle hot spot, nor was there a dance floor in the main room.

“So,” Emily said after taking a taste of a creamy dessert called Heavenly Sin and licking her spoon clean. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back from seeing Garrett Stone.”

Victoria took a bite of a black-and-white pudding that melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring it before she spoke. “There’s not much to say. I thanked him. He decided I needed to see the airport and took me there, as some kind of therapy, I expect.”

“Was he right? Did it help?”

“I suppose I’ll find out tonight. If the dream doesn’t return, I’ll call it a success.”

“And was the cowboy rough around the edges or gorgeous?”

“Both.”

Emily’s brows went up. “Do tell.”

“He’s different” was all she said.

He came across as a man who didn’t rile easily, was in fact paternal and protective, but he also simmered with passion. He just kept a tight rein on it. She could tell when he’d been restraining himself.

That kind of self-control, Victoria thought, was even sexier. And it made her want to break through it.

She dipped her spoon into the pudding again just as the cowboy in question took a seat at the bar, not close enough to talk to, but close enough to exchange glances. The bartender drew a draft and set it in front of Garrett without any words being spoken. He lifted his glass toward Victoria, took a sip and looked away.

“You’re blushing,” Emily said then looked around, her gaze landing on Garrett, who steadfastly stared at the wall of bottles behind the bartender. “Is that him?” Emily whispered.

“Who?”

Emily gave her a tolerant look. “Your therapist.”

“Yes. And don’t you dare put him on your Baby Plan list.”

Emily turned again and caught him studying them. “He’d make great babies, don’t you think? Tall and lean, and those ooh-la-la blue eyes.”

“Off-limits,” Victoria said, feeling her face heat up even more. “Anyway, I thought you were looking to adopt. At least that was your plan a week ago.”

“That was originally my goal, but looking at Cowboy Freud here, I don’t know….” She grinned. “Don’t fret, Vicki. I can see you’ve got the hots for him. I won’t unleash my considerable charms on your man.”

“He’s not my man.” She scraped her bowl for the last taste of pudding.

“Yet.”

“I’ll be going home in a couple of days.”

“I didn’t hear you say you weren’t attracted.”

Victoria shrugged. Attracted? What a mild word …

Garrett stood then and moved to sit next to Emily. They made a beautiful couple. She was several inches taller than Victoria. Her blond hair was more golden than his darker blond, but they fit together.

So much for his being a loner. She tried to remember why she’d labeled him that in her mind.

“Evenin’, Ms. Fortune,” he said, looking at Victoria.

“Hello, Mr. Stone.” The fact they’d shared a passionate kiss and were being so formal with each other made her heart beat faster, as if she was hiding something, when usually her life was an open book. She introduced him to her cousin.

“You following me?” he asked Victoria over the rim of his glass.

She arched her brows. “I believe we were sitting right here when you arrived,” she said, pointing out the obvious, not appreciating Emily’s curious and rather amused expression.

“Everyone knows I’m here every Sunday night ‘round this time.”

“I’m new in town. No one thought to add me to the Garrett Stone Sunday Routine loop.”

Marcos came up to them and shook Garrett’s hand, welcoming him. No, she hadn’t known, but Marcos certainly must have, and he’d issued the command performance to come to Red tonight. Why?

“Were Em’s and my desserts Wendy’s creations? Is that why you insisted we come tonight?” Victoria asked Marcos, making sure that Garrett knew exactly who was responsible for her being at Red tonight.

“Only the flan recipe on the dessert menu isn’t hers, although she’s talking about creating a chocolate version.”

A server put a plate of enchiladas in front of Garrett, smiled flirtatiously at him—or maybe knowingly—then sauntered away. Marcos excused himself, then Emily stood.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said.

Victoria was glad for the empty seat between her and Garrett because she wanted too much to sit closer, to brush arms, to straddle him right where he sat. “So, you come in every Sunday night for enchiladas?”

“And to pick up a standing order for a week’s worth of dinners.”

“You don’t cook, I guess.”

“I barbecue now and then, and breakfast and lunch are easy, but dinner’s a challenge. They freeze individual portions for me. Makes it simple.”

“You don’t get tired of eating the same things night after night?”

“Nope.” He scooped up a mixture of rice and beans then chewed thoughtfully while watching her. After he swallowed, he said, “You okay after today?”

“So far, so good.” She couldn’t remember being this tempted by a man. She’d had plenty of flirtations in her life, but she craved Garrett. He’d dominated her dreams for months, had held her hand for an hour, kissed her once—but very well—and now he was just sitting there, eating, and she wanted to go home with him.

He eyed her. “Your cheeks are pink.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“You sure you’re just not remembering our kiss?”

She angled her body toward him and crossed her legs, pleased that the kiss was on his mind, too. “I told you I was a good kisser.”

“It takes two.”

She smiled leisurely. “It certainly does.”

He gave her a cool look, which made her laugh.

“When do you go back to Atlanta?” he asked.

“Soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She leaned closer. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Why?” He didn’t seem surprised, which annoyed her.

“You interest me,” she said.

“And you usually get what you want, I expect.”

She thought she should be offended by that, but realized he was speaking the truth as he saw it. She was a Fortune, therefore her life must never hit any speed bumps.

“Most of the time I guess I do,” she answered, although she’d never wanted anything that mattered a whole lot—until now.

He stood, tossed a couple of bills down for the bartender, then swiped his hat off the bar top. Was he going to take off without another word?

“May I come out to your place tomorrow?” she asked, her insides churning. He apparently didn’t have a high opinion of her. She’d like the opportunity to change that.

“Not a good idea.”

Her brows went up. “That wasn’t a no.”

He touched a finger to her chin, then dragged it down her neck, his expression intense. “It sure as hell wasn’t a yes. Good night, princess.”

“See you around, cowboy,” she replied, pleased her voice didn’t shake.

She watched him walk away and sighed. The skin he’d touched still burned. She’d always wondered what it would be like to want a man like that, really want him. Now she knew.

It probably wasn’t smart on her part, trying to get him to meet with her again and see what happened, but an insistent voice in her head—and heart—was telling her to pursue him. She’d always been the resistant one, the person to keep a suitor at arm’s length. Now the tables were turned, and she totally understood the frustration of being rejected, or at least being held off.

She wasn’t proud of her past behavior, but in her own defense, she hadn’t understood it, either.

Emily returned. They put on their jackets and walked back to the Mendoza house.

“You looked like you wanted to gobble that man up,” Emily said.

“Too bad he wasn’t on the menu,” Victoria said, smiling, enjoying the crisp April evening. Life was so different here from Atlanta, so starkly different. “Wendy seems to love living here, Em. I never would’ve predicted that.”

“I’m not sure it’s the where but the who. She loves Marcos. That’s all that matters to her. Plus she found a passion for making desserts, so now she has a career. Add in motherhood …” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged.

“Are you envious?” Victoria asked. “I know how much you want to be a mother. It would be good to have a husband first.”

“In an ideal world. How about you? Unlike me, you’ve never talked about—”

“Obsessed about, you mean,” Victoria interrupted.

Emily nodded. “I admit to an obsession. Anyway, you’ve never said anything about wanting a family.”

“I’ve given it some thought, but I’m not in a hurry. I don’t think I’ve found me yet. I’ve got a job that doesn’t excite me, but I don’t know what else I want to do. I have great friends, but they’re settling into relationships and careers, so I feel at a loss a lot of the time. I’ve gotten restless.”

As they left the downtown, the night seemed darker and quieter, and yet Victoria felt safe. She didn’t know how safe she would feel at Pete’s Retreat. Garrett’s desolate location, where animals and humans could be hovering without anyone knowing, made her nervous. What a city girl she was.

Victoria’s cell rang just as they reached the house. Emily went inside, leaving Victoria alone on the porch.

“Coward,” Victoria said into the phone instead of hello.

“No question about it,” her cousin Jordana said. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stay any longer. Couldn’t do what I said I would.”

“Your sisters are worried about you. They think you’re seriously ill.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That they shouldn’t worry, because you’re not. But you know you’ll be showing soon. How long do you expect to keep your secret?”

“I already can’t fasten some of my pants.”

“Then you can’t delay. And Jordana? Tanner deserves to know.”

“Soon,” she said. “I’m not ready. How about you? Did you meet your rescuer?”

“I did.” She told her cousin about her visit with Garrett, although not about the kiss. “As soon as I get home, we’ll talk.”

“When you were at the airport, did you …”

“See Tanner?” Victoria said, finishing her question. “No. But it’s Sunday, and the flight school probably isn’t open on Sunday. The building looks pretty much done. It was hard for me to tell without going inside.”

After they ended their conversation, Victoria sat on the porch steps. The air felt cooler now that she wasn’t moving, but she didn’t seek the warmth of the house yet. She set her arms on her knees and rested her chin there, her eyes closed. It’d been a long day, but she needed to examine it, needed to decide if she was truly taken with Garrett or the idea of him—what she’d built up in her mind. That he’d added to his list of heroic qualities by taking her to the airport deepened her need to see him again.

It wasn’t like her to fall so quickly and so hard. Maybe his resistance had presented her with a challenge, and she didn’t have many challenges in her life these days. It was exhilarating. She felt anxious for night to come so the next day could start. It’d been months since that had happened. Maybe longer than that.

Without question, she had to see him again. She couldn’t go home with her mind full of him. It would be worse than the nightmares from the tornado. At least those were limited to nighttime. Garrett would haunt her daytime hours, too.

She stood then, her decision made. She would figure out a way to see him again, somehow let him see the real Victoria—at least the one she wanted to become because of him.

## Chapter Three

“She’s fourteen years younger than me,” Garrett said the next morning to his hound as he followed along to the next stall. “Plus she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. And she’s … she’s short.”

Pete wagged his tail, the dog equivalent of “I hear you, man.”

Garrett tossed used straw into a wheelbarrow. “On the other hand, she is just passing through. That’s a good thing, right?”

Pete cocked his head and whined a little.

“I get it. She’s the marrying kind. I need to remember that.”

Pete looked away then took off running at the same moment Garrett heard a car coming down his driveway. The rest of the dogs followed. It was probably the straw he’d ordered earlier being delivered. At least he hoped so.

No such luck. He spotted Victoria’s car. She tapped the horn twice and the dogs scattered except Pete and Abel. Pete stopped when Garrett did. Abel hurried over to greet her. Garrett didn’t call him off.

“Well, don’t you look all spiffy,” she said, grinning. “Those rubber boots are the height of fashion.” She was wearing the same thing she’d worn yesterday, except her shirt was deep purple, low cut and a little frilly. Garrett had a soft spot for feminine frills, even more if they were red, lacy and barely covering a fine female body. He wondered what she was wearing underneath …

“I’ve been muckin’ manure, princess. Wanna help?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe another time.”

“Uh-huh.”

She made the mistake of stopping downwind of him. After a second, she waved her hand in front of her face. “You weren’t kidding.”

“You take your chances when you come uninvited.” He cupped her arms and reversed their positions.

“I thought you’d like to know that I didn’t have the nightmare last night,” she said.

He’d had one. It’d been a hell of a night, in fact. “Good. So, now you’ve come to say goodbye?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Did you think I’d let you off that easily, cowboy?”

“Meaning?”

“I still want to get to know you.”

The last thing he wanted was more alone time with her. He turned on his heel and headed back to the barn. “You’re welcome to watch me work.”

He heard her following him and shook his head. She was like a mosquito. A stubborn, tenacious … and damned sexy pest.

He’d reached the barn door when the sound of a truck stopped him. His order of straw. Great. Lenny, the delivery driver, would spot Victoria and the town would soon be alive with rumor. Hell.

“You look like you want me to hide,” Victoria said. “You don’t want anyone to know I’m here, I suppose?”

Her insight surprised him. “Would you hide?”

“Heck no.” She laughed.

He eyed her steadily, resettled his hat on his head and went to greet Lenny, a sixty-year-old man who only seemed slow. He backed his truck to the barn door, hopped down and lumbered to where Garrett stood, waiting, Victoria next to him.

“Howdy, Garrett.” Lenny grabbed a bale hook, as did Garrett.

They worked in silence until the bales were unloaded and stacked. Garrett didn’t order too much at a time, preferring fresh straw and feed. His barn wasn’t huge, just ten stalls, one where he stored straw and another a tack room. Plus his workshop, hidden from casual glances.

When Garrett didn’t introduce Victoria, Lenny made it a point to do the honors. He lifted his gimme cap for a second. “Lenny Paulson, miss.”

“I’m Victoria Fortune.” She extended her hand as if he’d just washed up for supper, when in fact he was a mess from head to toe.

He hesitated, looked at his hand, then grasped hers for less than a second. “You Fortunes seem to have populated the whole earth.”

She laughed. “We have many branches all over the country, that’s for sure, and most have been fruitful. I have four brothers myself in Atlanta.”

“Whacha doin’ with this reprobate?”

“Learning how to muck stalls.”

Garrett almost laughed. She’d said it with a straight face.

“That so?” Lenny asked. “Got much call to do that in Hotlanta, do you?”

“You might be surprised.”

Lenny guffawed. He pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and passed it, along with a pencil stub, to Garrett, who signed the bill.

“He ain’t much of a bargain,” Lenny said to Victoria as he headed to his truck.

“‘Free’ is always a bargain,” she countered.

After the truck rumbled off, Garrett went to work finishing cleaning the stalls. She sat on a stool and watched, not saying a word, but not seeming bored, either. He wondered what Lenny would say to people, because he certainly wasn’t about to keep this bit of news to himself. No way.

Garrett was aware of her, of every time she crossed her legs or stretched or sneezed. Once when she was hunched over a little, her shirt gaped and he could see she was wearing a black bra. He liked red best, but black took a close second. It gave him something to fantasize about, anyway. Did she wear some tiny black thing as underwear?

“You only have the three horses?” she asked after a while, having seen them in the corral.

“At the moment. One’s been with me a long while. Apple Annie. These others ended up here over the past week. Haven’t located any owners as yet.”

“And how many dogs?”

“Six. At the moment.”

“Do those numbers change a lot?”

“They come and go. Except for Pete. He stays.”

“Abel seems pretty entrenched, as well.”

Garrett glanced over at the mutt, who’d made himself at home at Victoria’s feet. “He’s been hard to place. Not that he isn’t a good dog. He’s just … attached.”

“I haven’t seen any cats.”

“They keep to themselves. Last I counted, there were three. They do a good job of keeping the rodent population controlled.” He spread new straw in the last stall and wondered what would happen next. She didn’t seem inclined to leave.

“I brought lunch,” she said then, sliding her hands down her thighs nervously.

He didn’t know what to make of her—of the adoration in her eyes, her sassiness and straightforwardness. It was an odd and fascinating combination, and he needed to be careful. While he felt an almost blinding physical attraction to her, he would never be good enough for a Fortune, not with his past, not even for a night.

“I pictured you slapping a peanut-butter sandwich together for yourself,” she went on when he didn’t speak. “Thought maybe you’d like something a little heartier.”

He ambled over to where she sat. She straightened as he got closer. Her eyes took on a little wariness. “Victoria—”

“Vicki,” she interrupted breathlessly. “Most people call me Vicki.”

He let a few seconds pass. “Victoria, I don’t need mothering.”

“I’m not mothering you. I’m trying to be your friend. Friends do nice things for each other.”

“I’ve got all the friends I need.”

“Well, then, you’re a rare man. I figure I’ll meet lots more people in my life who will become friends. Some just for a little while and some forever. You saved my life, Garrett. That’s an unbreakable bond between us.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m beginning to regret doing that.” He stalked toward the door, not knowing where he was going, just that he needed to get outdoors.

She laughed and followed. “Roast beef sandwich, potato salad and apple pie,” she said, a coaxing lilt in her voice.

How’d she know his favorite meal?

“Estelle told me,” Victoria said smugly, apparently reading his expression. “Emily and I ate breakfast at her diner this morning. She even packed our lunch in a cooler I’m supposed to bring back when we’re done.”

He reached the stairs to his front porch, stopped and turned around. “So now Lenny and Estelle both know you’re out here visitin’ me. You might as well have taken out an ad in the weekly.”

“Are you hungry?”

Her cheerful, I-am-never-denied-anything tone made him want to shake his fists at the sky. Instead he shook his head. “I need a shower.”

“I’ll wait. Thank you,” she said seriously.

He bit his lip. She’d gotten her way, and she knew it. “We’ll eat here on the porch,” he said.

“Afraid if I come inside your house, I’ll slip behind the shower curtain with you?” Her eyes took on some shine, not so much in humor this time but provocation, as if daring him.

She had it backward. He was afraid he’d invite her in. Not only would lunch not get eaten, but maybe dinner and perhaps breakfast, too. He wouldn’t mind a good, long time in the sack with her.

“I won’t be long,” he said, then escaped into his house.

“I’ll be right here,” Victoria called after him then drew a calming breath. Keeping her hands off him had been torture.

She pulled the cooler from her trunk and set out lunch on a small, rough-hewn table between two unpadded rocking chairs. She couldn’t picture him in a rocker at the end of the day, except maybe if he had an ice-cold beer while watching the sunset for a few minutes. Maybe. She would’ve said he wasn’t a sentimental man, except that the way he treated animals said differently.

She wondered if he really deserved his reputation. He’d been gentlemanly with her—unfortunately. She smiled at that, then she loosened a button on her blouse, sat on a rocker with her knees up and waited patiently for him to join her.

Beyond the way her body felt around him, she liked him. He wasn’t like anyone else she knew, sure of himself but not in an arrogant way. The way he touched his animals said a lot, too. He knew how to be tender. She figured he was also very strong. Men who worked ranches and farms generally were. She didn’t know anyone else who worked physically for a living.

And he seemed comfortable in his own skin, a very good trait.

The screen door creaked open. Pete stood right away then tracked Garrett to the second rocker, sitting next to his master.

“Is Pete one of your rescued dogs?” she asked.

“We sort of rescued each other. The food looks good.” His easy change of subject was marked with a tone indicating it wasn’t going to be reopened. He grabbed a wrapped sandwich and dug in.

They didn’t talk, and that was amazingly okay with her. She was a curious person, one who asked lots of questions, wanted to know the how and why of things, but this time she just ate and listened to the land, the wind swirling dirt across the property, horses neighing in the corral, dogs yipping now and then. How different were the night sounds?

After they finished eating, she put the empty containers in the cooler, which he carried to her car.

“Have a safe trip home to Atlanta,” he said, blocking her from moving beyond the car.

She forced herself to smile. “I’m not leaving Red Rock yet.”

“Your choice, Victoria Scarlett, but don’t come out here again.” His eyes seemed filled with both desire and regret.

Something roared through her—loss, a sense of abandonment and even more, a feeling her future had just zagged onto another path. “How’d you know my middle name?”

“You’re splashed all over the internet, the adored daughter of Atlanta.”

“I want you,” she said impulsively, probably foolishly but honestly.

“Which is exactly why you need to go now and not come back.” Tension coated his words. He fastened the button she’d undone, his fingers grazing her hot skin, making her draw a shaky breath. “You can’t be with a man like me, Victoria.”

“Why? What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m too old for you. I like my quiet life. I don’t want bright lights and big cities.”

“What makes you think I want more than to sleep with you?” She saw that her words surprised him. Maybe he even saw she was lying. She did want to sleep with him, but perhaps he could see more deeply into her and know that she felt something more than that. She shouldn’t. It was ridiculous, given their short history. But she wanted more. Her dreams had been full of him. She’d been wanting him for months.

“Princess, you’ve got a little fantasy going based on me saving your life, and maybe because there’s an attraction between us. We won’t be acting on it. That’s that.” He walked straight into his house and shut the door.

Pete had followed him, but Abel let her give him a hug, one she really needed.

Rejected. Emily had been right. Victoria wasn’t used to it, and it stung a whole lot. Mattered a whole lot.

“Take good care of him, okay?” she said to the dog. “I think he needs someone to love him.”

She had to leave him alone, as he wanted. If she pursued him, pushed him, he would only get angrier, and she’d rather he remember her fondly.

Victoria got into her car, then a half hour later she walked into Estelle’s diner, cooler in hand, having lost her good spirits. The noon rush was over, only a few customers sat at the counter, sipping coffee. The redheaded, fiftyish Estelle was leaning her elbows on the counter and gabbing with an older man.

“Everything was wonderful,” Victoria said to her. “I’ll set this by the kitchen door, Estelle.”

“That’d be fine, thanks. Oh, Lenny was here for lunch. Said he met you.”

“Yup,” Victoria answered, drawing a laugh. She would be as tight-lipped as necessary. Garrett would appreciate her discretion, she was sure. “Garrett was kind enough to show me his rescue operation. He’s doing good work.”

“Rescue operation? I thought he just took in stray animals.”

“He also trains them so that they’re ready to be good pets for people.” Victoria assumed an allbusiness mode. She owed it to Garrett to protect him from gossip—and maybe to improve his reputation a little. “That’s a nice little enterprise he has going. Well, thanks again, Estelle.”

“Sure thing, honey.”

Instead of getting in her car, Victoria walked to a park a couple of blocks away. She didn’t want to face Wendy and Emily yet, afraid the disappointment of being dismissed by Garrett would be visible on her face. That defeat hurt more than she’d expected and was deepening each minute. She was torn between staying away, as she’d first thought she could, and making a bigger effort to tear down his walls of resistance. Could she accomplish that? Maybe if she had more time …

Caught between the challenge of winning him over and her usual don’t-make-waves stance, Victoria sat on a park bench to think. A young mother pushed her toddler in a swing across the way, but otherwise it was a school day and therefore devoid of older, noisier children, giving her the quiet she needed.

He was right about some things—fourteen years was a big difference in age. Wendy had told her he’d moved away a couple of times. What had he done during those exiles? What kind of life experience did he have that she didn’t? She was accustomed to the men of her social circle. Similar backgrounds helped smooth the path to an easier getting-to-know-you time in a relationship.