Merger of Fortunes
Peggy Moreland

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Peggy Moreland for her contribution to the DAKOTA FORTUNES series.

To Kathy Combs and Mary Crawford, the two saps who were left out of the book I dedicated to my college buddies. You may have been overlooked, but will never be forgotten!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Coming Next Month

One

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Case Fortune murmured in disbelief. He would’ve thought librarian-attire would be a pre-requisite for writing kids’ books. Horn-rim glasses, sensible shoes, a dress that covered chin to ankle. That kind of thing.

He glanced up at the banner that stretched from one end of the bookstore’s children’s corner to the other to make sure he was at the right place: Signing Today! Gina Reynolds, Award-Winning Author of TALES FROM TOADSVILLE.

Toadsville, he thought, swallowing a laugh. What kind of woman wrote stories about toads? A nerd, he decided, and shifted his gaze back to the woman in question.

But Gina Reynolds didn’t look like any nerd he’d ever seen before. At the moment she was perched on a child-size chair holding a book open, so the children scattered on the floor around her could see the illustrations as she read the story to them. Seated as she was, her legs appeared incredibly long, their length enhanced by the short black skirt that hit her above her knees and the black leather boots that came just short of reaching them.

Her style of dress wasn’t the only contradiction to Case’s preconceived image of Gina Reynolds. Long strawberry-blond hair framed her face and tumbled in soft waves over slender shoulders. A faint sprinkling of freckles speckled her nose. Her eyes, a stunning leaf-green, sparkled with animation as she read to the children in a voice that changed tone and depth to match the personality of the characters in the story.

Case hadn’t come to the signing expecting to find a raving beauty—and he hadn’t—yet there was something about her that encouraged a man to take a second look. Whether it was her physical attributes or her voice that demanded that second look, he wasn’t sure, but the sound of her voice had him moving to brace a shoulder against the end of a bookshelf to listen, as enthralled as the children with her storytelling skills.

When she read the last page and closed the book, the children let out a collective sigh of disappointment, then immediately began clamoring for her to read another. A woman—probably the manager of the bookstore—quickly stepped into the circle of children to intervene.

“I’m sorry, children” she said, with regret, “but that’s all the time Ms. Reynolds has to read to you today. If you’d like her to sign copies of your books, please form a line against the far wall.” She turned to smile at Gina. “I know that Ms. Reynolds will be happy to personalize each one.”

With surprising gracefulness, Gina rose and moved to sit behind the table set up for her, where stacks of her books were displayed. Children scrambled to form the requested line, which quickly stretched from one end of the store to the other.

Though irritated that he would have to wait a little longer to introduce himself, Case wasn’t giving up. He needed Gina’s assistance in bringing a merger to fruition, and wasn’t leaving until he’d at least had the opportunity to discuss it with her. Seeking an inconspicuous spot, he slipped between the aisles of books and pretended to study the titles, while waiting for the kids to clear out.

When the last kid in line turned away, Case made his move. Quickly crossing to the table, he picked up a book from the display. “Would you mind autographing one for me?” he asked.

Bent over to gather her purse from beneath the table, she glanced up, a friendly smile ready. Though her smile remained in place, it lost some of its warmth when her gaze met his—and that surprised him. He didn’t know her and was sure that she didn’t know him, yet it was definitely dislike—or, at the very least, disapproval—that darkened her eyes.

Straightening, she accepted the book and laid it on the table in front of her. “And who would you like it inscribed to?” she asked as she flipped open the front cover.

“Case Fortune.”

She glanced up in surprise. “You?”

“Is that a problem?”

Blushing, she quickly shook her head. “Of course not. It’s just that…well, you’re the first adult male who’s ever requested an autographed book.”

He shot her a wink. “I’ve always prided myself on being ahead of the curve.”

Instead of the smile he’d thought his teasing comment would draw, he received a frown.

Bending her head over the open book, she scrawled an inscription, then closed the cover and handed it to him. “You pay the clerk at the register,” she informed him curtly and reached for her purse again.

He nodded. “Thanks.”

Before he could get to the real reason for his visit, the manager called from behind the checkout counter, “Ms. Reynolds? I’d like to speak with you before you leave.”

“I’ll be right there,” she replied, then rose and said to Case, “If you’ll excuse me.”

Irritated by the obvious brush-off, Case pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and followed her to the front of the store. He tossed a credit card on the counter, but kept an ear cocked to the conversation transpiring between Gina and the manager, and overheard the woman congratulate Gina on receiving the Newbury Award. While he continued to listen, he noticed a photo on the wall behind the register of the woman with Gina. The plaque beneath it read “Susan Meyer, Manager.”

After signing the credit slip and accepting his autographed book, he approached the two women.

“Ms. Meyer?” he asked hesitantly.

She glanced his way. “Yes. May I help you?”

He extended his hand. “Case Fortune.”

Her eyes shot wide at the Fortune name. “Oh, Mr. Fortune,” she gushed and pumped the offered hand enthusiastically. “It’s an honor to have you in our store.”

“The honor’s mine,” he said humbly. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help overhearing you say that Ms. Reynolds won the Newbury Medal. I’m not familiar with that award. Is it a prestigious one?”

She pressed a hand over her heart. “Oh my, yes! The American Library Association presents it to the author they feel has made the greatest contribution to American literature for children.” She angled her head to smile fondly at Gina. “And this year they’ve chosen our Gina. We’re all so proud of her accomplishment.”

“I should think so,” he agreed, then turned his attention fully on Gina. “I suppose you’ve been swamped with parties celebrating your success.”

Color seeped into her cheeks. “Well, no. Not exactly.”

“An oversight I hope you will allow me to rectify by permitting me to take you out for cocktails.”

Her face went slack. “Cocktails?”

“It seems appropriate.”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I couldn’t. I appreciate the invitation, I do, but I need to stay and help Susan clean up from the booksigning.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Susan fussed. “You’re our guest. My staff and I will put everything away.” She pushed out her hands, shooing the two toward the store’s entrance. “Go and celebrate,” she ordered Gina. “It’s not everyday you have the opportunity to toast your success with such a handsome man.”

Henri’s, the restaurant Case had chosen for Gina’s celebration, was not only located near the bookstore, it was reputed to be one of the finest in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. During the weekday, businessmen crowded the interior, networking while partaking in the infamous two-martini-lunch. In the evenings, it was no less busy, as many of those same businessmen returned to entertain their clients, plying them with pepper-crusted tenderloin or smoked salmon—Henri’s signature entrees—accompanied with select wines from Henri’s wine cellar. Friday and Saturday nights a different atmosphere prevailed, one created for couples seeking a quiet, romantic dinner. Gina knew this because her father had often brought her mother to Henri’s on Saturday nights, a ploy he’d used to charm his way back into her good graces, after having ignored her all week. Many of his cronies did the same.

She stole a glance at Case, wondering if he used Henri’s for that purpose. He wasn’t married, thus had no wife to placate, but he had plenty of lady friends who might feel similarly slighted. She was aware of his bachelor status, as a week rarely passed that his picture didn’t appear in the newspaper’s society section, with a different woman on his arm each time. Trophy dates, eye candy. Whatever a person termed his choice in women, the man obviously didn’t lack for female companionship.

So why had he insisted upon taking her out for cocktails? she asked herself, studying him beneath her lashes. She didn’t believe for a minute that it was because he wanted to toast her success. Men like Case Fortune did nothing that didn’t benefit themselves in some way and he had nothing to gain from her winning an award.

Frowning, she continued to scrutinize him as he and the waiter went through the opening-the-champagne-bottle ritual. She hated to admit it, but he was better looking in person than in the photos she’d seen of him in the papers. Razor-cut, dark-brown hair; finely chiseled features. The leather jacket he’d draped over the back of his chair looked Italian, as did his tailored dress shirt. Probably were, she thought with more than a little resentment. He had the money, the style to wear whatever he wanted. Why settle for anything less than the best? Her father certainly never had.

The reminder of her father was enough to have her glancing at her wristwatch, wondering how long she’d have to stay before she could make a graceful exit. Five minutes? Ten?

“Your champagne, madam.”

Startled, she glanced up to find the waiter offering her a flute of champagne. She forced a smile for his benefit and accepted the glass—all the while silently cursing the bookstore manager. With Susan all but pushing her out the door, there was no way she could’ve refused Case’s invitation without appearing rude and ungrateful.

“To many more Newburys in your future.”

She looked up to find that Case had his flute lifted in a toast. Murmuring a polite, “thank you,” she took a cautious sip of champagne. She didn’t particularly care for the bubbly beverage. It was her father’s signature drink, reason enough for her to dislike it.

She shuddered at yet another reminder of her father and set the glass down, knowing Case was the one responsible for bringing him to mind.

He looked at her in concern. “If you don’t care for the champagne, I can ask the waiter to bring you something else.”

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m really not much of a drinker.”

He nodded, then his expression turned curious. “You know, I’m surprised we haven’t met before. Living in the same town, and all, you’d think our paths would have crossed at some point.”

She lifted a shoulder. “No surprise, really. I went away to boarding school and college, and only returned to Sioux Falls a couple of years ago.”

“I guess that explains it,” he said, then smiled. “I do know your father, though. In fact, I’m one of his biggest fans. He’s built Reynolds Refining into a force to be dealt with in the world marketplace. His company is both well managed and financially sound, which says a lot in today’s economy.”

Bored with the conversation, she looked away. “I wouldn’t know,” she said vaguely.

“You don’t stay abreast of your father’s business?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Rather than answer, she glanced at her watch again. “I really should go.”

He lifted a brow in surprise. “But we haven’t finished our champagne yet.”

She laid her napkin on the table and gathered her coat. “Like I said, I’m not much of a drinker.”

Bracing his arms on the table, he leaned to peer at her intently. “I get the distinct impression that you don’t like me.”

Embarrassed that she hadn’t concealed her feelings better, she avoided his gaze as she pushed her arms through her coat sleeves. “Not you personally,” she said uneasily. “Men like you.”

“And what kind of man is that?”

Annoyed that he wouldn’t let the subject drop, she grabbed her purse. “I really do need to go. Thank you for the champagne.”

He placed a hand over hers, stopping her.

“I’d like to see you again.”

His eyes were an incredible blue and fixed on hers with an intensity that she found difficult to look away from. “I-I don’t go out much. My work takes most of my time.”

“You have to eat, don’t you?”

“I usually have my meals at my desk.”

“May I at least call?”

She panicked for a moment, unable to think of a polite way to refuse, then rose, dragging her hand from his. “Sure,” she said, and forced a smile. “Thanks again for the champagne.”

Before he could say anything more to delay her, she turned and strode away.

Case Fortune wouldn’t be calling her, she thought smugly. He couldn’t.

Her phone number was unlisted.

“Have you made any progress with the Reynolds merger?”

Case reared back in his desk chair, stifling a sigh, as his brother Creed took a seat opposite his desk. Although he would’ve preferred his brother hadn’t brought up what was turning out to be a sore subject with him, he couldn’t really blame him for asking. It was Dakota Fortunes’ money that was tied up in the purchase, and as co-President, a position he shared with Case, Creed had as large a stake as Case in the merger’s outcome.

“No,” he admitted reluctantly. “But I’m working on it.”

Creed swore under his breath. “Dammit, Case. Do I need to remind you how much we’ve got riding on this merger?”

“I’m fully aware of what our investment. Can I help it if Reynolds has gone soft on the deal?”

Creed rose to pace, dragging a hand over his hair. “Surely there’s a way to force his hand.”

“I’m working on the daughter. She’s the cog in the wheel. Reynolds has decided to leave the company to her, instead of selling it to us, as he’d agreed.”

Creed stopped to peer at Case. “Daughter? I didn’t know Curtis had any kids.”

“Neither did I, until he told me he’d changed his mind about selling to us.”

“Does she have any business experience?”

Case snorted a laugh. “Hardly. She’s an author. Children’s books, no less. As far as I can tell, she has no interest in the company at all.”

“Then why does Reynolds want to leave it her? You know as well as I do how volatile the oil and gas industry can be. If she gets hold of the refinery, she’ll bankrupt it in a month.”

Case scowled, having already considered the probability. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already now.” He opened his hands. “But what can I do? Reynolds has decided he wants to leave it to her as a legacy of sorts.”

“You’re going to have to force his hand. Make him go through with the merger.”

“I’m working on that,” Case assured him. “The daughter’s the key. It’s just a matter of persuading her to convince her old man that she doesn’t want the company.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

Case folded his hands behind his head, his expression cocky. “Don’t worry, little brother. I know how to handle women.”

Creed rolled his eyes. “Forgive me,” he said, and turned for the door. “For a moment, I forgot who I was talking to.”

When the door closed behind Creed, Case dropped his hands and frowned, the confident act no longer necessary. The truth was, he’d been blowing smoke when he’d told his brother he could handle women—at least, this particular woman.

How the hell was he going to persuade Reynolds’ daughter to help him, when he couldn’t even talk to her? he asked himself. The woman had outfoxed him. A nerdy writer of children’s books had duped Case Fortune, a world-class negotiator.

He huffed a breath, as he recalled the innocent smile Gina had offered him when she’d given him permission to call. Hell, the woman had known damn good and well he wouldn’t be able to call. Not when her phone number was unlisted.

Getting her number wouldn’t be all that hard, he reminded himself. A few calls to the right people and he’d have the number quickly enough. But he couldn’t chance obtaining it that way. The minute she heard his voice, she’d know he’d acquired her number by dubious means, which would give her even more reason to dislike him.

And she disliked him enough as it was. Or, rather, men like him, he remembered her saying. And what the hell did that mean, anyway? he asked himself in frustration. What kind of man did she think he was? Some kind of pervert?

He gave himself a shake. Didn’t matter what kind of man she thought he was, it was obviously the wrong kind, and it was up to him to convince her differently.

But how?

A smile slowly spread across his face, the answer so obvious he was amazed he hadn’t thought of it before. Stretching out a hand, he punched the intercom for his secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Fortune?”

“Marcia, call the florist and order three dozen yellow roses to be delivered to Gina Reynolds.”

“Is her name in your personal or business database?”

“Neither. She’s Curtis’ daughter. You may have to dig a little to find her address. Have someone in legal check the county tax records. I’m sure she’s listed there.”

“Will do. How do you want the card signed?”

He considered a moment, then bit back a smile. “Toad lover.”

“Excuse me?”

“Toad Lover,” he repeated. “T-O-A-D. I assume you know how to spell lover.”

“Uh, yes, sir, I do.”

“And ask the florist if they can find a container shaped like a toad to put the roses in. Preferably crystal or silver.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, sounding doubtful. “Is this some kind of joke?”

“No. More like war.”

The first time the doorbell rang, Gina ignored it. Perched on a stool before her drafting table, she was riding a creative wave, the images in her mind all but flowing off the end of her pencil. If she stopped now, the images might vaporize before she had the opportunity to commit them to paper.

The doorbell rang a second time and she hunched her shoulders against the intrusive sound, trying to block it out. The third time, she muttered an oath and slapped the pencil down. Prepared to hang and quarter the person who dared interrupt her work, she marched to the front door of her loft. Mindful of “safety first,” she rose to her toes to peer through the peep hole.

And saw roses. Yellow roses. What appeared to be a field of them. Curious, she swung open the door and fell back a step, clapping a hand over her heart. “Oh, my word,” she breathed, stunned by the sheer size of the arrangement that greeted her.

“Delivery for Ms. Gina Reynolds.”

The male voice came from behind the roses and obviously belonged to the person holding them.

She strained to peer through the blooms. “I’m Gina.”

“Where would you like me to put these?”

“I’ll take them,” she offered stretching out her hands.

She shifted left and right, down and up, searching for something to grip, but finally gave up.

“Maybe you better bring them inside,” she conceded. “Hang on a minute and I’ll guide you.”

Stepping out into the hallway, she positioned herself behind the delivery boy and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Straight ahead,” she instructed, then warned, “Careful. There’s a large support column on your left. Good,” she praised as he shifted slightly to the right and avoided bumping into it. “My dining table is directly in front of you. You can set the arrangement there.”

Heaving a sigh of relief, the young man deposited the roses on the table, then pulled an invoice from his pocket. “Sign here,” he said, pointing.

“Who are they from?” she asked curiously, scrawling her name.

The boy tucked the invoice back into his pocket. “Beats me. There’s probably a card in there some place. Usually is. If not, you can call the shop. Somebody there will probably know.”

Nodding, she drew a five dollar bill from her purse. “Thank you,” she said. She handed him the tip, then eyed the arrangement dubiously and added, “I think.”

After locking the door behind the delivery boy, she returned to the dining table and began searching for a card. Not finding one among the blooms, she squatted down to see if it was attached to the vase.

“Oh, my gosh,” she cried, when she found herself staring into the jeweled eyes of a silver toad. Charmed by the intricately crafted creature, she spied the card and removed it, sure that she’d find her agent’s name there, along with his congratulations on her receiving the Newbury Award.

“Toad Lover?” she read with a frown, straightening. She turned the card over and read the neatly typed message “Call me. 555-9436.”

Not recognizing the number, she picked up the phone and punched in the digits. She listened to three rings, then heard the click of an answering machine engaging.

“This is Case. Leave a message at the tone.”

She clutched the receiver to her ear, too stunned to move. The tone sounded and she fumbled the phone, in her haste to disconnect the call.

Case sent her flowers? she thought in dismay. And yellow roses, no less, her absolute favorite. How had he known? And the silver toad vase…it was adorable, perfect. She collected toads in every shape and form.

But why would Case send her flowers?

“Doesn’t matter,” she told herself sternly. What ever his reason, she wasn’t interested. Not in him. Not in the roses. Not in the adorable silver toad he’d chosen to send them in. She was tossing it all out. She wasn’t keeping a gift from Case Fortune.

She stooped to gather the arrangement into her arms and moaned pitifully when she found herself looking into the jeweled eyes of the silver toad. How could she throw away a toad? It would be like tossing out a friend.

Straightening, she snatched up the card and tore it into little pieces. She might keep the arrangement, but she wasn’t calling him. She didn’t care how much she liked yellow roses or how adorable she thought the silver toad vase, she was not calling Case Fortune. Not even to say thanks. Emily Post might have a heart attack over the slight, but etiquette be damned. Gina wasn’t calling Case, nor was she sending a polite note of thanks.

She wanted nothing to do with Case Fortune.

Ever.

“Your personal taxi is here!”

Busy packing her briefcase for her trip to New York, Gina glanced up to find Zoie, her neighbor from across the hall, entering her loft. Zoie was the only person Gina had entrusted with a key to her loft, an honor Zoie took full advantage of by coming and going as she pleased.

Today Zoie had her hair spiked with purple mousse and, if Gina wasn’t mistaken, was sporting a new tattoo on the back of her hand.

Shaking her head at her neighbor’s bizarre taste, Gina set her briefcase on the floor. “All ready. I just need to grab my rolling bag.”

Zoie stopped short, her eyes going wide, as she got her first glimpse of the flowers that filled the room. “Girl, have you given up writing and opened a floral shop?”

Grimacing, Gina shrugged on her coat. “No, but it looks like it, doesn’t it?”

Zoie flicked a nail over a petal in a bouquet of forget-me-nots, then turned to Gina, her lips pursed in annoyance. “Obviously you’ve been holding out on me. Who’s the guy?”

Gina shuddered at the mere thought of a relationship with Case. “Trust me, there is no guy.”

Zoie spread her arms, indicating the flowers that filled every available space. “Then why all this?”

Gina heaved a sigh. “I wish I knew. It started with the yellow roses over there,” she said pointing. “They were delivered on Monday. Tuesday morning I received the bucket of daisies. Later that day, the orchids arrived. Wednesday, the gladiolas and the basket of peonies. Yesterday the forget-me-nots and that tall palm plant in the corner.”

“Nothing today?”

She tipped her head toward the screen that partitioned her bedroom from the remainder of the loft. “In there. I ran out of room in here.”

“The guy must be crazy in love with you. Get a load of these orchids, will you? This time of year these things cost a small fortune.”

Gina grimaced at the word fortune. “Trust me. He can afford it. And he’s not in love with me. Heck, he doesn’t even know me!”

“Mm-hmm,” Zoie hummed doubtfully.

“It’s true, I swear. We met for the first time last Saturday at my booksigning.”

Zoie clasped her hands together in a dramatic plea of supplication. “Please tell me he’s legal and not one of your adoring under-aged fans.”

“Yes, Miss Drama Queen, he’s legal.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Case Fortune.”

Zoie’s eyes shot wide. “The Case Fortune?”

Irritated by her friend’s reaction, Gina scowled. “You make him sound like some kind of God or something.”

“According to the society page, he is.”

“Trust me, he’s not.”

Zoie narrowed an eye. “I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. But I know enough men like him to know what he’s like.”

“And that would be…” Zoie prompted.

“Heartless, selfish, driven.” She lifted a brow. “Need I go on?”

“Unless I’m mistaken, those are the same personality traits I’ve heard you attribute to your father.”

“Two peas in a pod.”

“Come on, Gina,” Zoie groused. “Give the guy a break. Just because your father’s a jerk, doesn’t mean all men are.”

Gina jutted her chin. “I never said they were.” She stooped and picked up her briefcase, signaling an end to the discussion. “We’d better go. With airport security being what it is, I don’t want to take a chance on being late and missing my flight.”

Zoie grasped the handle of Gina’s rolling bag and pulled it behind her as she followed Gina to the door. “You haven’t forgotten that I’m going to Sully’s for a couple of days and won’t be here to pick you up when you return?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“So how are you going to get home?”

“I’ll grab a cab.”

Zoie bit back a smile as she stepped out into the hall. “You know, you could ask Case to pick you up. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Gina huffed a breath. “I’d walk first.”

Two

Gina’s drive home from the airport following her trip to New York was slow, due to the snow that had begun to fall a few hours earlier. But she didn’t mind the delay. It wasn’t as if she had anyone waiting for her at home. Not even Zoie. Besides, she loved snow.

Pressing her face against the side window, she watched the flakes drift down from a dark, leaden sky. As a young girl, she remembered standing outside with her face tipped up and her mouth open, trying to catch snowflakes as they fell. Her mother had always teased her, saying she looked like a baby bird begging to be fed.

She smiled sadly at the memory. She missed her mother. Missed the late night talks they used to have, the mornings spent curled up on the sofa in the sunroom, her head in her mother’s lap. She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of her mother’s fingers combing through her hair, the sound of her soft laughter as Gina entertained her with the stories she’d made up as a young girl.

You should write these stories down before you forget them. You might want to publish them someday.

“I did, Mama,” she whispered to her reflection on the glass.

“What was that, ma’am?”

She turned from the window to find the taxi driver looking at her in the rearview mirror. Embarrassed, she averted her gaze. “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”

“Almost there,” he announced. “And none too soon. They’re saying we might get a foot or more before morning.”

She glanced out the window again and smiled. “The kids will love it. Snowball fights. Building snowmen. They’ll have a blast.”

He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “You got kids?”

“Me?” she asked in surprise, then sputtered a laugh. “No. I’m not married.”

He gave his head a woeful shake. “Don’t need a marriage license to have kids. Not nowadays. Folks have gone plumb crazy, thinking a single person can raise a child alone. Takes two, I say,” he said, with a decisive jerk of his chin. “A mother and a father.”

Gina turned her face to the window again, thinking of her own family. The absentee father and the desperate-to-please mother.

Sometimes even two aren’t enough, she thought sadly.

“Here we are,” he said. “Want me to let you off out front or would you rather I take you to the parking garage?”

“Front is fine.”

While the driver collected her suitcase from the trunk, Gina counted out the fare from her wallet, then slipped the straps of her purse and briefcase over her shoulder and climbed out. A snowflake landed on the end of her nose, making her laugh.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, as she handed the driver the fare. “You be careful out tonight.”

He tipped his hat. “Same to you, ma’am.”

Taking the handle of her rolling bag, Gina turned for her building, pulling the bag behind her. Lights glowed from behind the double front doors’ leaded glass windows and spilled over onto the snow that had collected on the front steps.

“Welcome home.”

She stumbled a step at the greeting, losing her grip on the handle of her rolling bag, and whirled to find a man stepping from the shadows at the corner of her building. With his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold and a watch cap pulled low over his brow, he looked like a mugger. Although muggings were rare in her neighborhood, they weren’t unheard of. Fearing she was about to become the next victim, she glanced down the street, praying the taxi driver was still within hearing range. But the vehicle was already two blocks away, too far for the driver to hear if she were to scream.

“How was your trip?”

Recognizing the voice of her would-be attacker, she whipped her head back around.

“Case?” she said in disbelief. Sagging weakly, she pressed a hand against her heart to still its panicked beating. “Good grief. You scared a year off my life.”

He dragged the cap from his head. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intent.”

Feeling foolish for mistaking him for a mugger, she hitched her purse higher on her shoulder. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to welcome you home from your trip.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “How did you know I was out of town?”

“One of your neighbors told me. Zoie, I believe was her name. When the florist called to tell me they were unable to deliver the flowers I sent, I became concerned. Thought I’d better check and make sure you were all right. Zoie was leaving as I arrived and she told me you’d gone to New York on a business trip.”

Gina made a mental note to tell Zoie to mind her own business in the future. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

He gave her a slow look up and down, a lazy smile chipping at one corner of his mouth. “Better than fine, I’d say.”

She stiffened her spine, refusing to fall for a line as obvious as that. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s been an exhausting day.” She stooped to retrieve her rolling bag, but Case was quicker.

He righted the bag, then bowed slightly, opening a hand in invitation. “Lead the way.”

She squared her shoulders and stood her ground. “I’m more than capable of carrying my own bag.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said amiably. “But my mother would roll over in her grave if she knew I’d stood by and allowed a woman to carry her own bags.”

She hesitated, not wanting his assistance, then huffed a breath and marched for the front door, leaving him to follow. After quickly dealing with the security code, she thrust out her hand for her bag.

He angled his body to block her and nodded toward the door. “Ladies first.”

Setting her jaw, she strode inside and straight for the elevator. “This really isn’t necessary,” she said irritably.

“Indulge me.”

She shot him a frown, as the elevator door opened, then rolled her eyes and stepped inside.

He followed, maneuvering the bag onto the elevator.

“You didn’t call me.”

She spared him a glance, then turned her face to the display, watching as the numbers lit, indicating their ascent. “No, I didn’t.”

The elevator doors opened onto her floor, the door to her loft directly opposite. She stepped out and Case followed, pulling her bag behind him.

She dealt with the lock, then turned to face him. “Thank you for your assistance. I can handle things from here.”

He nodded. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Why?” she asked bluntly.

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“I’ve already told you that I don’t care for men like you.”

“How can you know what kind of man I am, when you don’t even know me?”

“I know enough to know I’m not interested.”

When she turned away, he caught her arm and drew her back around. Set against his dark navy pea coat, his eyes seemed incredibly blue…and determined.

“Give me a chance,” he said. “Go out with me. Forget whatever it is you’ve heard about me and judge for yourself what kind of man I am.”

She gulped, wanting to refuse him, to avoid the disappointments she knew she would be setting herself up for. She knew what kind of man he was. He was just like her father.

But how could she say no to a man who adhered to his mother’s teachings, even when his mother wasn’t around to fuss at him when he didn’t? A man so unbelievably handsome, it made her teeth ache just to look at him? Besides, it wasn’t as if she received invitations for dates all that often. By design or destiny—she was never sure which—she had few friends, male or female.

“All right,” she said grudgingly. “I’ll go out with you, but just this—”

Before she could finish, his mouth was on hers. Caught off-guard, she had to brace a hand against his chest to keep from stumbling backwards.

She should have been insulted that he’d take such advantage of her, demand that he release her. This was exactly the kind of behavior she’d expected from him, a selfish disregard for a woman’s needs or feelings.

Yet, there was a confidence in his kiss, a seductiveness that kept her silent, made her want to experience more.

The chill of outdoors clung to his coat. She felt it beneath her palm, as well as the moisture from the snow that had seeped into the wool fabric. Deeper still she lost herself in the rhythmic beat of his heart, the heat from his body.

By the time he withdrew, her knees were weak, her mind fuzzy, her breath locked somewhere inside her chest.

He crooked a finger beneath her chin, his smile leaning toward the cocky side of confident. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Dress warm.”

She gulped, unable to tear her gaze from his. “Okay,” she murmured dully, then turned into her loft, her lips still tingling from the pressure of his.

By noon the following day, Gina had all but convinced herself that Case’s kiss wasn’t all she’d built it up in her mind to be. He’d caught her completely off-guard, which alone would make the kiss probably seem more than what it really was. She had to consider, too, that men like Case were excellent actors. If a situation called for knocking a woman off her feet with a mind-blowing kiss, she had no doubt he could deliver one…and feel absolutely no remorse afterwards for the deception.

In spite of changing her opinion about his kiss, she’d decided to stick to her agreement to go out with him. Attempting to wiggle her way out of the commitment seemed more trouble than it was worth, considering the man’s stubbornness. It exhausted her to even think of trying.

Which was why she was currently sitting beside him on the Trolley, dressed in her warmest clothes, as he’d suggested. She’d been surprised when he’d guided her to the Trolley stop at the corner of her block, rather than to the vehicle parked at the curb in front of her building. She’d assumed a man of Case’s position would consider public transportation beneath him. Especially when his Cadillac Escalade was parked right in front of her building and he was more than capable of driving them himself.

She stole a glance at him beneath her lashes, wondering if this might be an indication she’d misjudged him.

As if sensing her gaze, he looked her way and smiled. “Warm enough?”

She forced a polite smile in return. “I’m fine.” Unable to think of anything else to say, she turned her face to the window as the Trolley stopped to pick up more passengers. “Where are we going?” she asked curiously.

“The Falls.”

She snapped her head around to stare at him. “The Falls?”

“Yeah. Hope you don’t mind. They’re beautiful in the summertime, but I like them best in the winter when there’s snow on the ground and the river is starting to freeze.”

“The Falls,” she repeated, having a hard time imagining the Case Fortune finding pleasure in visiting what most would consider a tourist attraction.

“You don’t mind, do you? We can go somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

She shook her head. “No, I love the Falls. I’m just surprised that you’d want to go there.”

Smiling, he caught her hand and brought it to hold against his thigh. “I make it a point to visit them at least once a month. More, when I can find the time.”

Aware of the hand that held hers and the casualness with which he’d made the connection, she swallowed hard, praying her palm wouldn’t perspire and give away her nervousness.

He angled his head to look at her. “Have you ever seen the view from the Observation Tower?”

“Y-yes, but it’s been years.”

“Then we’ll definitely include that in our plans. I thought we’d stop off at the Horse Barn, too. There’s an art exhibit today.”

Gina knew all about the Horse Barn Arts Center and the current exhibit on display. She was a member of the Arts Council and attended every exhibit the Council sponsored. In fact, she had planned on seeing the current exhibit next weekend. It was a hands-on display designed for the entertainment and education of children. Though it was right up her alley, she had a hard time envisioning Case enjoying anything even remotely juvenile.

“What would you like to do first?” he asked. “The Tower or the Horse Barn?”

She considered a moment. “The Tower. That way we can warm up afterwards at the Horse Barn.”

Within minutes they arrived at the Trolley’s last stop, the Visitor’s Center. From there they walked to the Falls. The snow from the night before had fallen short of the weatherman’s forecast of twelve inches, leaving only three or four inches to cover the ground. In spite of the snow and the cold, Gina found the walk invigorating.

Even before the falls came into view, she heard the sound of the water crashing over the rocks. Snow lay in drifts along the banks of the river and blanketed the trees in soft, white canopies, while icicles hung in glittering spikes from the massive rocks that formed the falls.

“Come on,” Case caught her hand. “Let’s get a little closer.”

Gina allowed him to tug her along behind him. When he stopped, he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her against his side.

As they stood, taking in the sight and sounds, a memory surfaced, one which mimicked almost perfectly her current position. She’d been maybe ten at the time, standing beside the falls with her mother, watching the water rush over the rocks. Her mother had said something that day that Gina hadn’t thought much of at the time.

I wonder if drowning is painful?

At the time, Gina hadn’t thought too much of her mother’s comment—other than it was a macabre thing to say. Hearing it had sent chills chasing down her spine. But it wasn’t until after her mother’s suicide that she’d realized that her mother had been considering taking her own life for quite a while before actually committing the act.

Shivering at the memory, she forced it from her mind.

Case looked down at her. “Cold?” he asked, raising his voice to make himself heard over the sound of the falls.

Rather than tell him the reason for the shiver, she decided to accept the excuse he offered. “A little.”

He unbuttoned his overcoat and drew her back against his chest, wrapping his coat around her and holding it in place by hugging his arms around her middle. “Better?” he asked.

Painfully aware of the body pressed against hers, she could only nod.

He turned his face against her ear to make himself heard over the Falls. “Do you remember what a mess this area used to be? Lots of work went into cleaning it up and making it the attraction it is today.”

Frowning, she angled her head to peer up at him. “You sound as if you had a hand in the project.”

“Not as much as I would’ve liked. Dakota Fortunes helped fund the clean-up, supplying equipment, as well as man-power to do the work. I worked when I could, but it took the efforts of hundreds of men to complete the job.”

Surprised to learn that he had willingly volunteered his time for a public project, she filed away that new insight into his character to consider later.

“Reynolds Refining contributed, too,” he went on. “Money, as well as fuel. But I’m sure you knew about that.”

She shook her head. “No. I know very little about my father’s company.”

She half expected him to quiz her more about her relationship with her father and his business and was relieved when he let the subject drop and resumed talking about the restoration of the falls.

Gina had thoroughly enjoyed spending the day with Case. But now that it was coming to an end, her inexperience with men and dating in general left her in a quandary about the proper end-of-date protocol. Invite him in? Kiss? No kiss?

Unsure, she unlocked the door to her loft, then turned, deciding it safest to simply follow his lead. “Thanks for the day. I really had a good time.”

Teasing her with a smile, he caught her elbows and drew her to him. “Does this mean you’ve changed your opinion of me?”

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed that she’d said such awful things to his face. “Let’s just say I have new data to consider.”

Chuckling, he bussed her a quick kiss. “I guess I’ll have to accept that for now.”

“I guess you will.”

“When can I see you again?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she stammered, surprised that he appeared to want to take her out again. “While I was in New York, the art director requested changes on some of the illustrations for my next book and wants them ASAP.”

“How long are we talking? Days? Weeks? Months?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his frustrated tone. “I don’t know. It depends on my creative muse. A couple of days probably.”

“I could help,” he offered.

She gave him a doubtful look. “I think you’re forgetting I saw some of your drawings at the Art Center.”

“I may not be an artist, but I’d make a damn good model.” He waggled his brows. “Nudes are my specialty.”

She blushed furiously, easily able to imagine him naked. “I—I don’t do nudes.”

“Spoil sport,” he grumbled, then sighed. “Call me when you’re done and we’ll celebrate.” He looked down his nose at her. “You do have my number.”

She flushed guiltily at the reminder that she’d ignored his requests on all the cards accompanying the flowers he’d sent her. “Yes, I have it.”

He kissed her again, this one longer than the one before, then gave her a push toward her open door. “Get to work. The longer you goof off, the longer it’ll be before I can see you again.”

Dazed, she lifted a hand in farewell, then closed the door and leaned back against it, listening to the elevator doors swish close behind Case and the muffled grind of cable as the elevator started its descent.

He’d kissed her. Really kissed her. And he wanted to see her again.

With a dreamy sigh, she pushed away from the door and started toward her work table. She hadn’t taken three steps in that direction, when she heard the scrape of a key in her lock and the sound of the door opening. She glanced back just as Zoie came charging in.

“Spill, girl,” Zoie ordered, “and don’t leave anything out.”

Though she knew Zoie was referring to Case, Gina gave her a blank look. “About what?”

Zoie tossed up her hands. “About him! Case Fortune. I saw his Escalade parked out front when I got home from Sully’s. Sully sends his love, by the way,” she added.

“Sully’s such a sweetie,” she said fondly, then narrowed an eye at Zoie. “And how you do you know that was Case’s Escalade? Did you pick the lock and go through his glove compartment?”

“Didn’t have to. He has one of those Dakota Fortune parking passes hanging from his rearview mirror. Kinda hard to miss.”

“Oh.”

“No apology? Just, oh?” Chuckling, she flapped a hand. “Forget it. Now tell me where you’ve been all day. I’ve been climbing the walls, waiting for you to get home.”

Gina turned back to her desk and picked up her portfolio. “Here and there,” she replied vaguely.

“Uh-uh,” Zoie warned, trailing after her. “That’s not good enough.” She flopped down on the sofa and folded her arms across her chest. “I want to know every gory detail, starting with how you hooked up, all the way to the kiss I saw him plant on you in the hallway, and I’m not leaving until you tell all.”

Knowing her friend would make good her threat, Gina crossed to the sofa and sat down. “He was waiting for me when I got home last night.” She shot Zoie a frown. “Thanks to a nosy neighbor who can’t keep her mouth shut.”

Unfazed, Zoie tucked her feet beneath her, her expression expectant. “So? Did he spend the night?”

“Heavens, no!” Gina cried, shocked by the suggestion. “He carried my luggage to the door and asked me out. Period.”

Zoie’s face fell in disappointment. “Bummer. So what did you do today?”

“We went to Falls Park, took in the exhibit at the Horse Barn Art Center, and had dinner at that new Italian restaurant on Phillips Street.”

“Ah, come on,” Zoie groused. “That’s tour guide stuff. I want the juice. Physical contact. Whispered words of endearment. That kind of thing.”

“He held my hand. Does that count?”

“Stiff or foreplay?”

Gina looked at her askance. “What the heck does that mean?”

“Stiff is like dead fingers. No movement. Foreplay is playful, sensual. Thumb strokes on the palm. Little squeezes of the fingers. Which was it?”

Gina frowned a moment thinking. “Foreplay,” she decided.

Zoie rubbed her hands together in glee. “Oh, man. That’s good. Real good. What else?”

“While we were walking, he put his arm around my shoulders a couple of times. And he snuggled me up inside his coat when we were standing by the Falls.”

“Back to front or front to front?”

“Back to front.”

“Did you feel anything? Like a hard-on, I mean.”

“Zoie!” Gina cried.

Zoie held up her hands. “Okay, okay. Just trying to get a bead on his level of attraction.”

“It was one date,” Gina reminded her drolly. “It’s a little early to start thinking about sex.”

Zoie opened her hands. “Hey. Sex knows no time-line. When the time’s right, it’s right. You’ve got to learn to open up a little bit. Go with the flow.”

Gina winced. “I don’t know how.”

“Relax, you mean?”

Gina nodded.

“Alcohol,” Zoie said without hesitation. “Nothing loosens up a person’s inhibitions quicker than a stiff drink or two.”

Shaking her head, Gina pushed to her feet. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Good. That means it would take less to get you going.”

Sputtering a laugh, Gina planted her hands on her hips. “You are a real case, you know it? Here you are telling me to get drunk and have sex with a man I hardly know.”

“Do you want to remain a virgin the rest of your life?”

Gina winced, then shook her head. “No.”

“Does Case ring your bell?”

Gina rolled her eyes. “If you’re asking if I’m attracted to him, yes.”

Zoie shrugged. “Well, there you have it. Case Fortune is your frog-prince, the guy who’s going to introduce you to the wild side of life, teach you the old bump and grind.”

Gina clapped her hands over her cheeks, her face flaming. “I can’t believe we’re even having this discussion.”

Zoie unfolded her legs and rose. Slinging an arm around Gina’s shoulders, she drew her with her as she walked to the door. “Sister, it’s time. Past time, if you ask me. You’ve been wearing that chastity belt long enough.”

Three

At the moment, Gina felt more like a voodoo priestess than she did an author of children’s books.

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