Fortune’s Mergers
Merger of Fortunes
Peggy Moreland
Back in Fortune’s Bed
Bronwyn Jameson
Fortune’s Vengeful Groom
Charlene Sands

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Merger of Fortunes

About the Author

PEGGY MORELAND published her first romance in 1989, and continues to delight readers with stories set in her home state of Texas. Peggy is winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a nominee for the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, and a two-time finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award. Her books frequently appear on the USA Today and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. When not writing, Peggy can usually be found outside, tending the cattle, goats and other animals on the ranch she shares with her husband. You may write to Peggy at PO Box 1099, Florence, TX 76527-1099, or e-mail her at peggy@peggymoreland.com.

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!

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 know.” 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. Whatever 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.

Candles surrounded her work table, filling the loft with flickering light and the calming scent of lavender. Sounds of the ocean, specifically chosen for its soothing qualities, played from her stereo speakers. A bowl of cheese—flavored crackers mixed with chocolate candies—both known for having produced restorative powers in the past—was in easy reach of her hand. Her good luck toad sat on his perch on the crooked arm of her task light, overseeing her work. She’d even changed into her oldest and most ragged sweat suit. The one with the hole in the left sleeve and the streak of hot pink fingernail polish on the thigh. The same one she’d been wearing when she’d received the call from the publishing company, telling her they wanted to buy her first book.

She’d tried every trick in the book to jump-start her creative muse, but so far not a one of them had worked.

And it was all Case’s fault.

Or, rather, Zoie’s, she corrected with a frown.

Zoie was the one who had put the idea of sleeping with Case in her mind. And now that was all she could think about. Besides the would-he, could-she, should-she worries that would plague any virgin considering making the fall, she kept imagining what kind of lover Case would be.

And when she wasn’t worrying about the act itself, she was stressing over the man she was considering giving herself to.

Prior to Sunday and her outing with Case, she hadn’t known him personally, and what she had known, she hadn’t particularly liked. As far as she was concerned, he was cut from the same pin-stripe-cloth as her father, which was reason enough to dislike him—or, at the very least, distrust him. Businessmen like Case and her father were incapable of maintaining personal relationships. Not the kind of relationship Gina wanted and needed from a man. Men like them devoted all their time, energy and emotions to the companies they ran. Company first, family somewhere way down the line. That was the motto they lived by.

Hadn’t Gina witnessed enough of her own mother’s frustrations and disappointments married to a man obsessed with his business to know she wanted no part of that life? Hadn’t she purposely chosen a career on the opposite end of the spectrum from her father’s for that same reason? Hadn’t she shut her father out of her life because he’d always chosen business over family? It hadn’t been a decision she’d made rashly or without proper justification.

It had been a means of survival.

As a young girl, troubled by the tension and unhappiness in her home, she’d created a fairy tale world to retreat to, a safe and happy place filled with the characters she created in her mind. After her mother’s suicide, when her father had packed her up and shipped her off to boarding school, she’d taken those fairy tale characters with her, relying on them for the emotional support and comfort her father was incapable of supplying. As an adult, she’d taken those same characters and the stories she’d made up about them and spun them into a cash cow that currently paid the bills, which had given her the ability to sever her financial dependence on her father and, in a sense, thumb her nose at him and his way of life.

And now she was considering sleeping with a man from her father’s world? The world she hated, despised, shunned?

She dropped her elbows to her desk and her head to her hands. “Oh, God,” she moaned miserably. “What was I thinking?”

She needed to forget Case Fortune and focus her mind on toads. Timothy Toad, specifically. Timothy Toad was her friend, her redeemer. He was the only male she could count on, the only one who had never let her down. He had no faults, no ulterior motives, no hidden agendas. He was perfect in every way.

There was only one problem. Two, actually, if she considered the fact that Timothy Toad was a figment of her imagination.

Timothy might be a male, but he wasn’t a man.

Yawning, Gina rubbed her fists against her eyes, trying to scrub away the webs of weariness. It was pushing midnight on day eight of her deadline and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed. But sleep was out of the question until she’d made the requested changes on the illustrations.

Glum, she poked a toe at the wads of paper littering the floor around her feet. Each represented a failed attempt at giving the art director what he wanted. She’d been at it for a week and she was no closer to capturing on paper the art director’s concept than she had been when she had started.

Firming her jaw, she snatched up the pencil again and held it over the blank piece of paper.

“It’s because you’re not concentrating hard enough,” she lectured sternly. “You know the story. Heck, you wrote it! Just draw the images and emotions that are in your head.”

Hoping to jumpstart her creative juices, she pressed the lead to the paper, drew a circle, then leaned back and studied it, waiting for the image hiding inside to reveal itself. Something flashed by the window, catching her eye, and she glanced up in alarm.

But the only thing she saw was her own image reflected in the dark glass.

“Now you’re seeing things,” she muttered under her breath. “Next thing you know you’ll be talking to yourself.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing it was too late. She already was.

Something struck the glass and she snapped her head up in time to see a flash of white, before it dropped beneath the ledge and disappeared from sight. Her heart thudding wildly, she stood and leaned to peer out. Frustrated by the drafting table that stood between her and the window, she shifted around to its end and pushed it out of her way.

Another flash of white streaked past her peripheral vision and she whirled to the window to look out, watching as the white object drifted slowly down. Paper? she asked herself. Whatever it was it couldn’t be anything more substantial than paper or it would have made a more of a sound when it hit the window.

She shifted her gaze to the sidewalk directly below her window and saw a man standing beneath the street light. A vandal, she thought, her anger surging. Prepared to give the guy apiece of her mind, she shoved up the window. “What do you think you’re doing down there?” she shouted furiously. “If you don’t leave this instant, I’m calling the police.”

The man tipped his head back and looked up.

She gaped. “Case?”

“Stay right there!” he shouted, then darted over to pick up the paper from the ground.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“Sending you an airmail message.” He reared his arm back and sent the white object flying.

When she saw that the paper airplane was going to come short of making it to her window, she leaned out and grabbed it, managing to catch it by the tip of a wing. Ducking back inside, she read the message scrawled inside.

It’s been a week. No calls. Toad lovers need hugs, too.

She pressed her fingers against her lips, her heart melting at the last line, then let out a laugh and leaned out the window and called down to him, “You’re crazy.”

“No I’m not. I’m lonely. Can I come up? It’s freezing out here.”

She winced, remembering her earlier decision to forget Case Fortune. “It’s kind of late,” she hedged.

“It’s not like you’re asleep or anything,” he pointed out. “Come on, Gina. At least give me a chance to warm up.”

She vacillated a moment longer, then caved, telling herself it was cold outside and he probably was freezing. “Okay. But just for a minute.”

She closed the window, then stooped to scoop up the wadded balls of paper and stuff them into the waste basket. She didn’t want him to see the evidence of her creative block.

She heard the muffled sound of the elevator making its ascent and hurried to the door, combing her fingers through her straggly hair.

When she opened the door, Case was stepping off the elevator. He was dressed casually for a change. Boots, jeans, a black sweater beneath a leather jacket. His hair was mussed—probably from the watch cap he’d dragged off his head and shoved into a pocket of his jacket—and his cheeks were ruddy from the cold. If possible, he looked even more handsome than he did when wearing a business suit.

She groaned inwardly, remembering her ragged sweats and the lime green fuzzy socks that covered her feet.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Hi, gorgeous.”

She ducked her head and wound a strand of hair behind her ear. “I look a mess.”

“You look wonderful to me.”

Before she could call him the liar he was, he put his hands on her shoulders and backed her into her loft.

“Seven days, three hours and thirty-two minutes,” he said, as he kicked the door closed behind him.

She blinked at him in confusion. “What?”

“That’s how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Before she realized his intent, he covered her mouth with his. She didn’t want to kiss him, she told herself. And she didn’t want him kissing her.

Or did she?

She might have mentally decided she never wanted to see him again, but her body didn’t appear to have received the message. Without conscious thought, she was leaning into him, her breasts pressed against the muscled wall of his chest, her face tipped up to his. His hands slid to her back, his palms urging her closer still, and she responded, lifting her arms and looping them around his neck.

Strong. Possessive. Demanding. His kiss mirrored exactly the character traits she’d attributed to him, yet she didn’t find his kiss in the least bit repulsive. In fact, she found it intoxicating, invigorating, exciting.

He framed her face between his hands and drew back with a satisfied sigh to press his lips against her forehead.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all week.”

His voice sounded rusty, the admission dragged from a place deep inside him. She’d been thinking about kissing him, too, but couldn’t have uttered a word if her life had depended on it.

He tipped her face higher, his expression filled with reproach.

“Why haven’t you called?”

“I—I haven’t finished the drawings.”

He glanced toward her drawing table, where the task light cast a circle of light over her sketch pad. “You were working?”

She nodded.

“And I interrupted you,” he said with regret.

She shrugged. “No biggie. I wasn’t making much progress anyway.”

He shifted his gaze back to hers, a smile teasing one corner of his mouth. “Would thinking about me having anything to do with that?”

She stared, at first horrified that he somehow knew the cause of her creative block, then pursed her lips. “Your ego is showing.”

He slipped his hands beneath the hem of her sweatshirt and drew her hips to his. “I was thinking about you. Couldn’t get a thing done all week.”

She gulped, remembering Zoie quizzing her about the hard-on and trying not to think about that. “Y-you’re just saying that.”

He dipped his head and nuzzled his nose behind her ear. “Now, why would I lie to you?”

An hour ago—heck, five minutes ago!—she could’ve named a hundred reasons why he would. But at the moment she couldn’t think of anything beyond his mouth, his taste, and how much she wished he would kiss her again.

“Case—”

Even as she spoke his name, he slid his mouth to hers, his hands in a slow journey up her ribs. Heat flamed in her middle and fanned to every extremity, stealing her breath, as his thumbs nudged the undersides of her breasts.

She heard a moan and inwardly cringed when she realized the sound had come from her. She’d die before she’d let him know how inexperienced she was—or how needy. But he didn’t appear to have heard her. He was much too busy teasing her tongue with his and stroking her breasts.

This is it, she thought wildly, as electrical shocks ricocheted through her body. This is what desire feels like. She’d thought she’d experienced it before, but she’d been so wrong. This was raw, mind-consuming, nerve-burning lust, the kind that made a woman say to hell with discretion and propriety, rip off her clothes and throw herself at a man.

Realizing how close she was to losing control, she tried to get a grip on her emotions. She wouldn’t give herself to Case. Couldn’t. She knew how much pain men like him were capable of inflicting.

Knowing this, she pressed her hands against his chest. “Case. No.”

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, rubbing his groin seductively against hers. “You want this. We both do.”

She clamped her fingers around his forearms and dragged his hands from beneath her sweatshirt. “Whether I do or not isn’t the point. I’m saving myself for the man I marry.”

His face went slack. “You’re a virgin?”

Embarrassment burned her cheeks, but she nodded.

He dragged a hand over his hair. “Well, that certainly puts a different spin on things.”

She looked at him in puzzlement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Look,” she said, her frustration returning. “If you’re only here for sex, you might as well leave. I’ve got work to do.”

He hesitated a moment, then shrugged off his jacket. “No. I’m staying.”

Stunned, she watched him cross to her desk and pluck the illustration she’d been working on from the wallboard where she’d tacked it.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Is this one of the drawings the art director asked you to change?”

She wrinkled her nose at the reminder. “One of four.”

He sank down on her stool, studying the drawing. “The guy must be blind. This is really good.”

Shaking her head, she moved to stand beside him. “No. He was right. The expression is all wrong.” She pointed at Timothy Toad’s face. “He’s supposed to be sad, and he looks … I don’t know. Bored.”

“What’s wrong with bored?”

“Nothing, except in the story, he’s just lost his best friend. He should be … sad.”

Case picked up a pencil, offered it to her. “Show me.”

She tucked her hand behind her back. Her art was a private thing, something she did alone, never in front of an audience. “I really don’t like for people to watch me work.”

He shifted her to stand between his knees. “I promise, I won’t look.”

Mindful of his stubbornness, she snatched the pencil from his hand. Hoping to get rid of him, she quickly drew a rough sketch of Timothy’s face, turning the corners of his mouth down. She paused a moment to study the drawing and her eyes sharpened, as she saw, not only the difference in the emotion from the original sketch, but the direction she needed to continue. She quickly drew in a fat tear drop leaking from his eye, then added a reflection of Timothy’s friend’s face shimmering in the moisture.

“That’s it!” she cried, turning to throw her arms around Case’s neck and hug him tight. “That’s exactly the emotion I’ve been searching for.”

Oblivious now to Case’s presence, the fact that she had an audience, or that she had wanted him to leave, she spun back around, flipped the page and began to sketch in earnest, the pencil all but flying over the page.

Gina opened her eyes to bright sunlight gleaming through the floor to ceiling windows of her bedroom and stretched lazily. Waking to sunshine was an oddity for her, as her bedroom faced west, not east.

But when a person slept the day away, she reminded herself, she couldn’t expect the sun to follow suit.

Fueled by a creative burst of energy, she’d worked through the night, completing all four of the illustrations requiring changes by her art director. She’d finished the last just before sunrise and had crawled fully dressed into bed. Case had left shortly thereafter. She wasn’t sure of the exact time of his departure, as she’d been too exhausted to look at the clock. But she remembered him pulling the covers over her and tucking her in. She also remembered feeling the light scrape of his beard, as he’d placed a kiss on her cheek and hearing the huskiness of his whispered “goodnight.”

She drew the covers to her nose to hide her smile. She couldn’t believe he’d stayed all night. He’d remained right with her throughout her creative frenzy, never once complaining or appearing as if he was bored or anxious to leave. She’d stood between his knees while working on the first two illustrations, with him watching over her shoulder. And when she’d grown weary of standing, he’d pulled her onto his lap and looped an arm around her waist, holding her there while she completed the last two.

What kind of man would do something like that? she asked herself. Certainly not the kind of man she’d accused Case of being. There had been nothing selfish or self-serving in his behavior. And his comments had been encouraging and supportive, not negative or demeaning. In fact, without him, she doubted she would’ve been able to make the needed changes. His probing questions were what had finally unleashed her creative block and helped her find the images and emotions she’d needed to complete the task. And it was his supportive presence that had given her the ability to stick with the task throughout the long night until she’d finished the last one.

The telephone rang and she glanced at the extension on her bedside table, somehow knowing it was Case. After the second ring, she picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Good morning.”

A shiver chased down her spine at the sound of his voice and she sank back against her pillow, hugging the receiver to her ear. “It’s afternoon,” she reminded him.

“Did I wake you?”

“No. I was awake.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead. How about you?”

“The same. I had no idea drawing was so exhausting.”

She hid a smile. “I don’t remember you holding a pencil.”

“Didn’t I?” His chuckle rumbled across the airwaves to her ear. “Then explain why my fingers are cramped?”

“That was probably from holding me on your lap all night.”

A lusty sigh crossed the airwaves. “Yeah. That must’ve been it.” There was a stretch of silence, then he asked, “Do you have plans for dinner?”

She blinked in surprise at the sudden change in topic. “Well, no. I haven’t even thought about food.”

“Then have dinner with me. My parents just returned from Australia and all the family is gathering at the estate to welcome them home.”

She clutched the phone tighter to her ear, panic tightening her chest at the thought of meeting his family. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family celebration.”

“You wouldn’t be intruding. It’s nothing fancy. Just a chance to welcome them home. Besides, they’ll love having you join us.”

“I don’t know, Case,” she said doubtfully. “I’m an only child. I don’t have much experience with big families.”

“Tell you what,” he offered. “Dinner isn’t scheduled until seven. I’ll pick you up at six. Give you the grand tour of the estate. That way you can meet some of the family prior to dinner and won’t feel so overwhelmed.”

Despite Case’s assurance, Gina was overwhelmed. From the moment he’d turned onto the drive that wound its way through the Fortunes’ one-hundred and seventy-five acre estate until he came to a stop in front of his family’s home, she was struck dumb by the majesty of it all. Gothic in design, the mansion stood like a fortress against a gun-metal gray sky. Three stories of dark gray stone and scrolled ironwork made up the center portion of the house, with one-story wings jutting left and right. Gina counted a minimum of four chimneys rising from the black roof before she gave up and simply stared.

Case covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry,” he teased. “It may look haunted, but no ghosts live within those walls.”

She released an uneasy breath. “That’s good to know.”

He climbed out and circled the hood to open her door.

“We’ll save the outdoor tour for a warmer day,” he told her, leading the way to the front door.

One step inside and Gina released the breath she’d been holding, as well as her fears of bumping into a ghost. While the outside of the mansion appeared cold and gloomy, the inside was filled with warmth and color.

Before she could take it all in, Case caught her hand and tugged her toward the split staircase, taking the set of stairs to the right. “First stop, my bedroom.”

She jerked to a halt, pulling him to a standstill, as well. “You live here?” she asked in amazement.

“Along with my parents, brother Creed, half-brother Blake, and sister Eliza. Skylar, my half-sister, has a cottage on the estate, so I guess you’d say she lives here, too.”

“Doesn’t it get a little crowded? I mean, it’s a huge house, but I’d think you’d want some privacy once in a while.”

“When I do, I head for my penthouse on the top floor of the Dakota Fortunes’ building. Creed has a penthouse there, too, but the units are totally separate. Even when we’re there at the same time, we seldom see each other, unless we make a point to do so.”

He gave her hand a tug. “Come on. There’s lots to show you.”

When they reached the second floor, he opened a door and bowed slightly. “My humble abode, madame.”

Amused by his butler-like manner, she stepped inside and looked around, her eyes rounding, as her amusement gave way to shock. “Holy cow. You could drop my entire loft in here and have room left over.”

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over a chair, then helped Gina remove hers. “It serves its purpose.” He headed for the wet bar built into a corner of the room. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Just water for me, thanks.”

While he poured their drinks, she looked around. Though beautifully decorated, it was obvious the suite belonged to a bachelor. A king-size platform bed dominated one wall. Draped neatly over it’s top was a navy velvet duvet with a burned-out F monogrammed in its center. A sitting area held two overstuffed chairs upholstered in burgundy arranged for easy viewing of the plasma TV on the opposite wall. Framed paintings were arranged gallery-style to the left of the TV. Gina moved closer to study them.

“Here you go.”

She accepted the glass Case offered her, then turned to peer at the portraits again. “Who is this?” she asked curiously, pointing to an oil of a woman dressed in a long evening gown and posed in a garden.

“My mother.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yes, she was.”

Puzzled by his use of past tense, she glanced at him in confusion. “Was?”

“She died when I was about six,” he explained.

“But I thought you said your parents just returned from Australia?”

“My father and step-mother.”

“Does that bother you?” she asked, unable to resist asking. “I mean, you obviously loved your mother very much. I would think it would be difficult for you to accept your father remarrying and bringing his new wife into the home he once shared with your mother.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “Actually, my father has married twice since my mother’s death. I despised my first step-mother and still do. Trina Watters is a conniving witch, which my father finally realized and divorced her. They had two children together, Blake and Skylar. After he divorced Trina, he hired Patricia, my current step-mother, as a nanny and later married her.”

He held up a hand. “I know what you’re probably thinking, and if you are, you’re wrong. Patricia isn’t a gold-digger like Trina. In fact, it took Dad a long time to convince Patricia to marry him.”

Gina was blown-away by the twists and turns in Case’s family tree. “How on earth do you keep them all straight?”

“Actually, there’s one more. Maya Blackstone. She’s Patricia’s daughter, which makes her my stepsister.” He nodded toward her drink. “Are you finished? If you are, I want to show you the solarium.”

After putting away their glasses, Case guided her toward the door. “There’s a pond and fountain there,” he told her, then shot her a wink. “I’ll bet if you look closely enough, you might even find a toad or two hiding among the ferns.”

Laughing, Gina walked with him down the stairs. As they reached the halfway point, Gina spotted a woman standing at the entry table in the hall below, thumbing through a stack of mail. The woman had a slender build and looked as if a strong wind could blow her over. As she watched, the woman suddenly froze, her eyes riveted on the envelope she held, then swayed slightly, as if she were about to faint.

Case must have noticed the woman’s reaction, too, because he ran the rest of the way down the stairs and slid an arm around her to support her.

“Are you all right, Patricia?” he asked in concern.

She pressed a shaky hand to her forehead. “Just suffering a bit of jet lag, I guess.” Forcing a reassuring smile, she patted his hand. “I’m fine now.” She glanced at Gina and gave Case a chiding look. “Case Fortune,” she scolded. “Where are your manners? Introduce me to your friend.”

“Patricia, I’d like you to meet Gina Reynolds. Gina, my step-mother Patricia Blackstone Fortune.”

Smiling shyly, Gina took the hand the woman offered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fortune.”

“Patricia,” his step-mother insisted, then looked up at Case in question. “The two of you are staying for dinner, I hope?”

“Indeed we are,” he assured her. “We’re just making a quick trip to the solarium so that I can show Gina the pond and fountain.”

“You might want to save that for after dinner,” Patricia warned. “The others are already gathering in the dining room.” She hugged the mail tighter against her chest. “I’ll join you there, as soon as I put this away.”

Case watched his step-mother walk away, his forehead creased in a frown.

“Is something wrong?” Gina asked in concern.

“Did she seem upset to you?”

“I don’t know that I would term it ‘upset,’ but she definitely appeared shaken.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s probably nothing more than jet lag, just as she said.”

“Maybe,” he said doubtfully, then shrugged off his concern. “Well? Are you ready to meet the family?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Laughing, he looped her arm through his and guided her toward the dining room. “No. But don’t worry. I’ll stay right by your side all evening.”

Four

Gina felt as if she had been dropped down in the middle of a nest of magpies … or, worse, the eye of a tornado. Her head ached, her ears rang, and though the food looked and smelled delicious, she hadn’t managed so much as a bite. How could she, and hope to keep up with the conversations flying around her?

There are so many of them, was all she could think as she stole a glance down the length of the table at Case’s family. Halves, wholes, steps. The one sibling of Case’s she was confident she could address correctly was Creed, and that was only because he favored Case so much. In fact, the two could be mistaken for twins!

His parents were easily identified, as they were the oldest in the group. Nash, Case’s father, could easily have been Case’s brother, due to his youthful appearance and the features he shared with his sons. But the rest? Impossible! There were simply too many.

The sound of Case’s voice forced her attention from her thoughts.

“Any mobsters tried to take over your casino yet, Blake?” Case asked the man across the table.

Everyone at the table howled with laughter—everyone, that is, except Blake. Gina watched his eyes narrow and his hands ball into fists, and thought for a moment he might leap across the table and grab Case by the throat.

“Are you questioning my ability to manage my own business?” he challenged tersely.

“Come on, Blake,” Creed chided. “Where’s your sense of humor? Case was only kidding.”

“Yeah, Blake,” Case agreed. “Can’t you take a joke?”

A woman from the opposite end of the table spoke up. “I think he lost that ability when Dad turned Dakota Fortunes over to you and Creed and left Blake hanging.”

“That’s enough,” Nash said sternly, then offered Gina an apologetic smile. “You’ll have to forgive my children. It seems sibling rivalry persists, no matter what their ages.”

With the attention now focused on her, Gina felt a blush warm her cheeks. “Uh … I wouldn’t know anything about sibling rivalry. I’m an only child.”

“An only child?” Eliza repeated, then sighed enviously. “What I wouldn’t give to be an only child.”

“And miss out on the pleasure of having me as an older brother?” Case teased.

“Yeah, right,” Eliza returned wryly, then grinned and blew him an affectionate kiss.

With that, the confrontation was forgotten and the earlier joviality returned, leaving Gina feeling like a ping pong ball as she tried to keep up with all the conversations around her.

While Case dealt with the lock on the door to the loft, Gina thought back over the evening. Throughout dinner she had felt a distinct disadvantage, since everyone gathered for the welcome home celebration had known each other and she’d known only Case. Yet, she couldn’t help envying his family’s obvious closeness, in spite of the brief confrontation she’d witnessed between Case and Blake.

Remembering the woman who had come to Blake’s defense, she tried to recall her name. “Tell me again your half-sister’s name,” she asked, as she stepped inside the loft.

“Skylar Fortune.”

Exhausted both mentally and physically from trying to keep all of Case’s family straight in her mind, she stripped off her coat and let it fall to the floor. “Steps, halves and wholes,” she said wearily and collapsed onto the sofa. “How on earth do you remember all their names?”

Chuckling, he dropped beside her and cupped a hand at the base of her neck, squeezed. “Years of practice.”

She moaned pitifully as he kneaded the tensed muscles of her neck. “Please don’t stop,” she begged.

The telephone rang, but she ignored it.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I’m too tired to move. Whoever it is will just have to leave a message.”

At that moment, the answering machine clicked on, playing her recorded message. Seconds later, a male voice came through the speaker, “Gina, it’s your father. Call me at your earliest convenience.”

Ice shot through her veins at the sound of her father’s voice.

“Aren’t you going to call him back?” Case asked.

She turned her face away. “No.”

“But it sounded important.”

“I’m not interested in anything he has to say.”

“Gina,” he scolded gently. “Isn’t that rather harsh?”

“Actually I was being kind, considering how I feel about him.”

“But he’s your father,” he reminded her.

“My family’s not like yours,” she informed him. “My father and I have never been close. His choice, not mine.”

He looked at her in puzzlement. “What do you mean, ‘his choice’?”

“He never had time for me. Or for my mother, either, for that matter,” she added bitterly. “His one and only love is and always has been Reynolds Refining.”

She saw the look of surprise on Case’s face and felt he deserved some kind of explanation. However she was reluctant to offer one, especially after meeting his family and seeing how close all the Fortunes were. She pushed to her feet and crossed to the window to stare out, needing to distance herself from him, while she shared her less-than-picture-perfect past.

“My mother committed suicide,” she said, after a moment. “It was her last and final act to gain my father’s attention.” She shook her head sadly. “But I’m not sure she gained it even then. I know I never did.

“After her death, he sent me away to boarding school. He rarely called, never came for visits. What communications we did have were filtered through his secretary. She sent my allowance each month, shopped for all my birthday and Christmas gifts and mailed them to me. After boarding school, I went on to college, and the pattern remained the same.”

She heard Case rise, felt the weight of his hands on her shoulders, the nudge of his nose against her ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

She blinked back tears at the sympathy in his voice. “Don’t be. I’m not. Not anymore.”

She stared out the window, remembering the years of neglect, the pain her father had caused her, as well as the means she’d found to finally sever her ties to him completely.

“The only duty he ever felt toward me was a financial one, and when I was a junior in college, I finally found a way to free him of that obligation.”

“How?”

“My writing. I was still in college when I sold my first book.” She felt the same swell of satisfaction she had the day she’d received the call. “The advance check gave me the financial freedom I needed to cut him out of my life entirely.”

“But you moved back to Sioux Falls,” he said, obviously wondering why she’d return to the place where her father lived. “Was it in hopes of reuniting with your father?”

“Hardly,” she said wryly. “Sioux Falls is home to me, the only one I’ve never known. He robbed me of that and all that was familiar when he shipped me off to school.” She shook her head sadly. “I guess I’m slow, but it took me a while to realize that I had as much right to live here as he did. When I did, I packed up my things and moved back.”

“And you haven’t seen him since your return?”

“No. In fact, the phone call you just heard was the first time he’s attempted to contact me in years.”

Finding the entire subject of her father depressing, she turned and forced a smile. “Now that you know all the dirt about my family, how about a glass of wine?”

His gaze on hers, he lifted a hand and brushed her hair back from her face. “I have a better idea.”

She shivered as he stroked a thumb beneath her eye. “W-what?”

“This …”

He bent his head and she closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss. His lips touched hers once, sweetly, withdrew, then touched again. The tenderness in the gesture, the comfort she found in it, drew tears to her eyes. Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss, to him.

With a low moan, he vised his arms around, drew her to her toes and deepened the kiss. His taste filled her, a heady aphrodisiac that flowed through her bloodstream and turned her bones to jelly. Everywhere his body touched hers tingled with awareness, anticipation. Need.

His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. Squeezing the cheeks of her buttocks. Sweeping up her back. Framing her face. Her body responded to each and every touch. Arching. Heating. Aching for more. He slid a hand between their chests and covered her breast. Her breath grew ragged, her nipple rigid, as he gently kneaded the mound.

Unable to breathe, to think, she dragged her mouth from his. “Case, please.”

He rained kisses over her face, down her neck. “Please, what?”

She knew what it was she wanted from him, what her body ached for. But she knew, too, that she couldn’t give in to that need.

She shook her head. “I can’t do this.”

He drew back far enough to peer at her. “Can’t, what?”

“This,” she said in frustration.

“Why not?”

“I told you before. I’m saving myself for marriage.”

“No sex until marriage?” he asked doubtfully. “Isn’t that rather extreme?”

“Well, maybe engaged,” she conceded reluctantly. “But the commitment has to be there. Commitment is very important to me.”

He studied her a moment, then blew out a long breath. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.”

“Maybe you should go,” she said miserably.

Nodding thoughtfully, he gathered his coat from the chair where he’d dropped it. At the door, he stopped and glanced back. “Gina?”

“What?”

“What kind do you want?”

“What kind of what?” she asked in frustration.

“Engagement ring.”

“He was kidding,” Gina told Zoie the next morning over coffee. “I mean, there was no dropping to one knee, no proposal. He just asked what kind of ring I wanted.”

Zoie rolled her eyes. “Girl, you’re dumb as a board. If it’d been me, I’d’ve told him I’d accept nothing less than four carats set in platinum.”

“I’m not you,” Gina reminded her dryly.

“What’s so wrong with marrying Case Fortune?” Zoie asked. “He’s easy on the eye, rich as sin. You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“I won’t marry a man I’m not in love with,” Gina stated firmly.

“Why not? Women do it all the time. Who knows? You might even grow to love him over time.”

“And I might not,” Gina argued, then tossed up her hands. “I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. He wasn’t serious. It was just a joke.”

“How do you know it was? Did he laugh? Crack a smile? Did he say ‘gotcha, jokes on you’?”

Gina squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. “Well, no.”

“What did he do?”

“He just … left.”

“Just like that,” Zoie said, with a snap of her fingers. “He proposes, then leaves without waiting for an answer?”

Gina slid her spine down the chair, wishing she’d never told Zoie what Case had said. “Well, he kind of hesitated a minute, like he was waiting for me to say something, then he left.”

Zoie thumped the heel of her hand against her forehead. “Girl, you are undoubtedly the slowest, most naive woman to ever walk this earth. When a man like Case Fortune even hints at marriage, you clamp a ball and chain around his ankle and get him to swear to it in blood, before he can change his mind.”

Scowling, Gina rose to dump her coffee down the drain. “I wish I’d never brought it up.”

“Who’s going to keep you from screwing up your life, if you don’t confide in me?”

Gina shot Zoie a frown over her shoulder. “I’m not screwing up my life. I’m merely being cautious.”

“Same thing. You’ve got to learn to take a few risks. Step out on a limb every now and then. That bubble you’ve been living in might be safe, but it’s got to be lonely as hell in there.”

“I don’t live in a bubble,” Gina stated indignantly. “And I’m not lonely. I go out. I have friends.”

“Name two,” Zoie challenged.

Gina opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, unable to name a single friend, other than Zoie.

“See?” Zoie said smugly. “If I had a good, strong hat pin, I’d pop that bubble and force you out into the real world and out of that make-believe one you hide yourself in.”

Gina pushed the vacuum around her loft, chasing the dust bunnies that had collected during her weeklong creative block. Thankfully, the revisions were now complete and on their way to New York, via Federal Express.

She wished she could pack Zoie up and deal with her as easily.

Flattening her lips, she thrust the vacuum head under the sofa with a little more force than necessary.

“I don’t live in a bubble,” she grumbled under her breath. Just because her lifestyle was different than Zoie’s didn’t mean there was anything wrong with it or her. Zoie was a free spirit, an adventuress, while Gina enjoyed a quieter, calmer existence.

And she wasn’t lonely, she told herself. She wasn’t like Zoie, who constantly needed to be surrounded with noise and color, in order to be happy. Gina was perfectly content with her life just the way it was.

Or she had been, until Case came along.

Giving the vacuum an angry shove, she fisted her hands on her hips, as the upright machine went careening across the room and crashed into her dining table. He was the problem. Case Fortune. He’d dropped into her world like the proverbial Prince Charming and started making her question everything she’d once held dear.

Mainly, her virginity.

Groaning, she snatched up the stuffed toad from the sofa and flopped down, burying her face in its soft fabric. She’d never considered sex a sport, as did many of her peers. To her, sex was special, sacred, an act two people in love shared exclusively with one another.

If that was true, then why was she always thinking about having sex with Case? she asked herself. She didn’t love him. Heck, she barely knew him! So what if his kisses turned her insides to warm butter? Big deal. And who cared if he was drop-dead handsome? In today’s world, pretty faces were a dime a dozen. And so what if he did the sweetest, most romantic things? Any man with a finger could punch in a florist’s number and order a shipload of flowers. And it certainly didn’t take a genius to fold a piece of paper into an airplane and sail it through a window.

But few men did those kinds of things. It took someone special to even think of doing them. Someone thoughtful, kind, generous. Someone with a heart.

She slowly drew the stuffed toad from her face, her eyes wide. Was Case truly the kind of man she’d just described? She racked her brain, trying to think of instances where he’d displayed the traits she’d once attributed to him—cold, heartless, driven.

He had to be all of those things, she told herself. A businessman like Case didn’t climb to the position he was currently in without stepping on a few people along the way. Her own father had sacrificed family in favor of business. Surely Case had done the same.

But then she remembered the loving comments he’d made about his mother, while gazing at the portrait of her that hung in his room; his concern for his step-mother when she’d appeared about to faint; the easy camaraderie she’d witnessed between he and his siblings the night he’d invited her to have dinner with his family.

Had she misjudged him? she asked herself honestly. Had she blown any future she might’ve had with him by refusing to have sex with him?

She firmed her jaw. If so, that was just too bad. Her virginity was important to her, a gift she intended to give to her husband, to the man she loved. If Case wrote her off just because she wouldn’t have sex with him, then he wasn’t the man for her.

A knock on the door jerked her from her thoughts. Sure that it was Zoie coming to apologize for all the mean things she’d said that morning, she pushed to her feet, thinking she might make her friend squirm for a while before forgiving her. After all, the things Zoie had said were cruel and totally untrue.

But when she opened the door, it was Case, not Zoie, standing in the hallway.

“Case,” she said in surprise.

“Are you filming a pancake commercial?” he teased.

Remembering that she had wrapped her hair in a bandanna, she ripped the scarf from her head and balled it into her fist. “Sorry. I was cleaning house.”

He lifted a brow. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Flustered, she stepped back, allowing him to enter. “Sorry,” she murmured as she closed the door behind him.

“That’s twice you’ve apologized in the same number of minutes.” He bit back a smile. “Usually that’s a sign of a guilty conscience.”

She ducked her head, blushing. “More like embarrassment. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting company.” She peered up at him curiously, suddenly remembering the time. “What are you doing over here at this time of day? Shouldn’t you be at the office?”

“I’m playing hooky.”

“Really?” she said in surprise. “Somehow you don’t seem the type.”

“Here we go with that ‘type’ thing again,” he said wearily.

She winced. “Sorry.”

“That’s three,” he said, then smiled, “But you’re right. Ordinarily I don’t skip out early, but I figured I might as well leave, since I wasn’t accomplishing anything, anyway.” He gave her a hopeful look. “I was hoping I could talk you into playing hooky with me.”

She glanced down at her front and wrinkled her nose at the sight of her faded sweat suit and stocking feet. “I’m not exactly dressed for an outing.”

“I was thinking more about a movie marathon.” He lifted his briefcase and gave it a pat. “I came prepared with a half dozen DVDs, a box of microwave popcorn and a six-pack of beer.”

She choked a laugh. “Are you serious?”

He plopped his briefcase down on the dining table, flipped up the latches and lifted the lid. Inside were a stack of DVDs, as well as the aforementioned boxes of popcorn and six-pack of beer.

“You are serious” she said in disbelief.

He shrugged off his coat, then loosened the knot of his tie. “So? What do you say? Are you game for a movie marathon?”

Laughing, she plucked the box of popcorn from the briefcase and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make the popcorn, while you cue up the DVD.”

By the time the credits rolled on the last movie, Gina and Case were spooned on the sofa, with Case at her back and one of his legs hooked over hers.

She dabbed a tissue at her eyes. “That movie always makes me cry.”

“Me, too.”

She snapped her head around to peer at him, then dug an elbow into his ribs. “Liar. You didn’t cry.”

“I did, too,” he insisted.

Picking up the remote, she aimed it at the TV. “Men,” she muttered, and turned off the set.

“Just because we don’t wear our emotions for all the world to see, doesn’t mean we have don’t have any.”

She shifted to her back to look up at him. “And that’s to say that women do?”

He swiped a tear from her cheek and lifted it for her to see. “There’s your proof.”

Chuckling, she swatted his hand away. “Okay, so I’m a wimp and cry at sad movies.”

He bent his head to nuzzle her cheek. “Never argue with me. I’m always right.”

She gave his head a playful push. “Your ego is showing again.”

He dipped his head over hers. “Let’s make out,” he whispered against her lips.

Gina knew she shouldn’t. Not when she knew what making out might lead to.

But before she could tell him no, he cupped a palm over her breast and her resistance slipped away. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulled his face closer.

His kiss seemed to last forever. Little nips of his teeth; deep, greedy thrusts of his tongue. Whispered words that had no meaning, save her name. Hands that stroked and kneaded her breasts. The weight of his leg over hers. The steel-like column of his erection growing against her hip.

Emitting a low groan, he buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath fanning warm and moist against her skin. He remained in that position for a full minute, before he finally lifted his head with a sigh and met her gaze. “I better go, while I can still walk.” He gave her breast a last regretful squeeze and dragged his hand from beneath her sweatshirt. Heaving himself up and over her, he stood, taking a moment to adjust his slacks before turning to face her again.

His smile soft, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss against her lips, then withdrew to meet her gaze. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised.

Then he was gone.

Gina had heard the phrase “sexually frustrated” before, but she’d never truly known what it meant … until now. Hours after Case had left and she still burned with need, her body all but aching with it. She couldn’t believe Case would arouse her to such a level, then leave without ever attempting to satisfy her—or himself, for that matter. And he’d been aroused, too. She knew, because she’d felt his erection lengthen and harden against her side.

Why hadn’t he pressed her to have sex with him? she asked herself in frustration. Hadn’t he realized that she was as aroused as he was? That she wouldn’t have been able to stop him, even if she’d wanted to? Five more minutes at the mercy of his unbelievable sensual torture, and she would’ve stripped him naked and had her way with him.

I’m saving myself for marriage.

She rolled to her stomach with a groan and buried her face in her pillow, remembering what she’d told him the previous times he’d attempted to seduce her.

It’s all my fault, she thought miserably. By leaving, he was demonstrating his willingness to abide by the rules she’d set. If nothing else, she should admire his nobility.

But acknowledging he was noble didn’t take away the ache he’d left her with, or the need.

Across town, Gina’s father, Curtis Reynolds, knelt on the kitchen floor, his head gripped between his hands. Dizzy. He was so dizzy. And the pain! It was blinding, debilitating and growing stronger by the day. Unable to sleep, he’d been on his way to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice, when the pain had first hit him.

“Mr. Reynolds? Are you all right?”

It took a moment for his housekeeper’s voice to penetrate the dark bounds that vised his mind.

He drew in a deep breath, then another, before carefully lifting his head to find his housekeeper stooped over him. “I’m all right, Mary,” he assured her.

“Are you sure?” she asked in concern. “I can get you another pain pill, if you want.”

He shook his head, as much to clear the webs from it as in response to his housekeeper’s question. “No more pills. They muddle my mind.”

“But the doctor said—”

“I know what the doctor said,” he snapped, then softened the reprimand by giving her hand a reassuring pat. “When a man doesn’t have much time left, he should be able to live it with a clear mind, not in a damn fog.”

“Let me call Gina,” she suggested hesitantly. “If she knew—”

He shook his head. “No. I left her a message asking her to call and she hasn’t. If she came at your request, I’d know it would be out of pity, not because she cared.”

“But she’s your daughter,” she said in frustration. “She should be here with you.”

He shook his head sadly. “No. I was never there for her when she needed me. I can’t very well ask her to come running just because I need her.”

Case had called Gina, as promised, just before noon. After talking for a few minutes, he had invited her to a dinner party at his parents’ home. Still suffering the same sexual frustrations that had kept her awake half the night, she’d been tempted to tell him to forget the party and come to her loft instead, as she had different plans for him that night.

Coward that she was, she’d accepted his invitation instead, then prayed that she wouldn’t embarrass herself by groping him in front of his family. How could she do anything less, she asked herself, when she’d had nothing but sex on her mind since he’d left her the night before?

Thankfully, selecting the proper outfit consumed most of her afternoon and took her mind off her sexual frustrations. Case had mentioned that it was a black-tie affair, which didn’t help at all, as that could mean anything from a cocktail dress to a ball gown, considering the crowd he ran with. Hoping to err on the underdressed side of black-tie, rather than the over, she’d chosen a winter-white pant suit and dressed it up with a pearl-beaded shell to wear beneath the mandarin-style jacket.

She’d spent an hour on her hair, trying to find a style that made her look more glamorous and less like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm. Deciding that was impossible, she’d finally swept her hair up in a loose knot and secured it with pearl-studded hairpins.

When Case knocked at her door at precisely seven, she was sliding her feet into heels the same winter-white as her pantsuit. Out of breath—and a whole lot nervous—she hurried to the door.

Her first glimpse of Case nearly brought her to her knees. He was dressed in a dark brown dinner jacket, and had left the collar of his cream-colored shirt open. The contrast in formal versus casual proved devastating to her system, leaving her mouth dry and her speechless.

He gave her a slow look up and down. “Wow. You look like a snow princess.”

Pleasure warmed her cheeks. “And exactly what does a snow princess look like?”

He slipped his hands around her waist and clasped them behind her back. “Like something that would melt in my mouth, if I dared taste her.” He lifted a brow. “Is there any danger of that happening?”

Emboldened by his appreciative look, she smiled coyly. “I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

Taking the challenge, he stroked his tongue in a lazy arc over her lips that sent a jolt of desire all the way to her toes.

When he withdrew, she inhaled a ragged breath, then blinked open her eyes. “Did I melt?”

Frowning thoughtfully, he swept his tongue over his lips. “Can’t tell. Maybe we should try again.”

She pressed a hand against his chest to stop him from kissing her again, fearing that if he did, they’d never make it to his family dinner.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” she said with regret. “We don’t want to be late.”

Five

Gina gave Case’s arm a tug, stopping him before he could open the front door of his parents’ home.

“Skylar is the one with the long, light brown hair, right?” she asked in a frantic whisper. “Kind of a tomboy?”

“More than kind of. There’s nothing frilly or fussy about our Skylar.”

“And Eliza has blond hair and blue eyes?”

Chuckling, Case bussed her a quick kiss. “Quit obsessing. No one is going to be offended if you forget his or her name.”

His assurance did little to ease Gina’s nervousness as she followed him inside.

“Sounds as if everyone is in the den,” he said, guiding her in that direction.

Gina’s uneasiness increased ten-fold, when she saw the number of people already gathered. Besides the members of Case’s family she’d already met, there were some new faces, as well.

Tightening her grip on Case’s arm, she nodded toward the fireplace. “Who is that with Maya?” she whispered.

Case followed her gaze. “Her boyfriend, Brad.”

Gina watched Maya and Brad for a moment, then lifted her face close to Case’s ear. “If Brad’s her boyfriend, why does she keep sneaking peeks at Creed?”

Chuckling, Case shook his head. “You women. Always trying to stir up trouble.”

“I’m not trying to stir up anything,” she said indignantly, then poked her elbow against his ribs and tipped her head discreetly toward the couple again. “See for yourself. She may be talking to Brad, but it’s Creed she’s got her eye on.”

Case followed her gaze and frowned thoughtfully. “It does appear that way,” he replied, then shrugged. “It’s probably nothing. Come on,” he said, drawing her further into the room. “Let’s get something to drink.”

Though Gina didn’t agree with Case’s assessment of Maya’s covert interest in Creed, she kept her opinion to herself and allowed him to lead her to the bar.

As he handed her a flute of champagne, Eliza joined them, slipping an arm through Gina’s. “Better watch him,” she warned, eyeing Case suspiciously. “He tries to get women drunk so that he can have his way with them.”

Gina blinked, then sputtered a laugh, when she realized that Eliza was teasing her. “Don’t worry. I’m wise to his devious ways.”

Smiling, Eliza stretched to her toes and planted a kiss on Case’s cheek. “Hi, big brother.”

He made a show of wiping away her kiss. “Don’t try buttering me up now.”

Laughing, Eliza caught the hand of a woman passing by and drew her into the group.

“Gina, I’d like for you to meet a friend of mine, Diana Young. Diana, this is Case’s current flavor-of-the-month, Gina Reynolds.”

“Would you stop?” Case complained. “You make me out to be some kind of playboy.” Turning to Diana, he smiled warmly and extended his hand. “It’s always a pleasure seeing you, Diana,” he said, then shot Eliza a scowl and added, “in spite of the company you keep.”

Laughing gaily, Eliza looked around the room. “Quite a crowd, huh?”

Gina followed her gaze and stifled a shudder at the number of unfamiliar faces. “And then some.”

“Oh, look!” Eliza cried excitedly. “The Australians have arrived!” She lifted a hand high, catching the attention of the two men who had entered the room and motioned for them to join her.

“You’re going to love these guys,” she said in an aside to Gina and Diana. “Max is a cousin of ours. Mom and Dad met up with him while they were in Australia and invited he and his business partner, Zack Manning, to visit us in the States. They’re interested in horse breeding and want to check out Skylar’s setup.”

As the men made their way through the crowded room, Gina noticed the recognition that flared in Diana’s eyes, as well as the shock.

Eliza caught Max’s hand and pulled him into the group. “You already know Case,” she said, beginning the introductions. “And this is his date, Gina Reynolds, and this,” she said draping an arm at her friend’s waist and hugging her to her side, “is Diana Young.”

Diana tipped her head in greeting. “Hello, Max.”

Max muttered something that Gina couldn’t quite hear, then said to the group as a whole, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to speak to Patricia and Nash.”

Gina watched him stride quickly away, his friend Zack following, and wondered at the odd exchange.

“Let’s mingle,” Eliza said, and turned away, with her friend Diana in tow.

“That’s odd,” Gina said, with a frown.

“What’s odd?” Case asked.

“Judging by Diana’s expression when Eliza first pointed Max out, I would’ve sworn she already knew him. Yet, they greeted each other as if they were total strangers. And did you notice his expression? He looked almost … angry.”

Case reared back to look at her suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re a children’s author and not a detective? That’s two clandestine incidences you’ve noticed since arriving.”

She gave her chin a haughty lift. “Can I help it if I’m more aware of my surroundings than you are? And I was right about Maya,” she added stubbornly. “Something is definitely going on between her and Creed.”

“Oh really,” he said doubtfully.

She tipped her head discreetly toward Creed. “If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. Creed’s giving Maya’s boyfriend the evil eye.”

“What?” Case glanced toward Creed. He studied his brother for a moment, then stubbornly shook his head. “He’s probably got his mind on something else and is totally unaware of who he’s looking at or his expression.”

“I don’t think so,” Gina said doubtfully.

Teasing her with a smile, he leaned close to whisper, “Since you seem determined to stir up a romance, real or imagined, you might want to check out Max’s friend, Zack, and Skylar.”

Gina scanned the room until she saw the two standing near the doorway, openly flirting. Her eyes shot wide. “Why, they’ve only just met!” she whispered in return.

Laughing, he slung an arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Super Sleuth. I’ve got something even more surprising I want to show you.”

When he reached the center of the room, he stopped and drew her to his side.

“Could I have everyone’s attention a moment?” he called loudly.

Conversations slowly dwindled as people turned to see what was going on.

Uncomfortable at being the center of attention, Gina turned her face against Case’s shoulder. “What are you doing?” she whispered frantically. “Everyone’s staring.”

He looked down at her and smiled. “Of course they are.”

“Case …”

Ignoring her pleading look, he turned his attention to the crowd again and directed his next words to them.

“As you all know, family is very important to me. The Fortunes have been blessed with one of massive size, with branches that literally stretch all over the world. Over the years, we’ve had our share of misfortune, as well as success, and through it all we’ve stuck together, offering each other whatever support and encouragement was needed at the time. We’ve laughed together, cried together, and celebrated together.

“Growing up in this house we’re gathered in this evening, I’ve taken part in quite a few celebrations, everything from births to deaths and everything in between. Tonight I’m asking my family and friends to share in a special celebration with me.”

A sliver of apprehension snaked down Gina’s spine as Case turned to face her. Taking her hand in his, he slipped his other into his jacket pocket, then slowly sank to one knee, pulling out a ring.

Gina gaped, too stunned to speak.

His gaze on hers, he slid the ring onto her finger and said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Gina Reynolds, would you do me the honor of marrying me and becoming my wife?”

The room was so quiet, she heard the wood shift in the fireplace. Everyone seemed as shocked by Case’s proposal as she was. She didn’t know what to say. Yes? No? Are you crazy?

But he didn’t seem to need an answer.

With his gaze on hers, he stood and pulled her into his arms. With everyone in the room watching in shocked silence, he kissed her with a passion that stole her breath.

A single clap of hands sounded, as the guests slowly absorbed the unexpected announcement. Others gradually joined in, until applause rolled like thunder through the cavernous room.

Case spent the drive home on his cell phone, talking to someone about a business deal that he and Creed were putting together. It wasn’t exactly the behavior one might expect from a man who’d just proposed, but it was just as well, because Gina couldn’t have carried on a coherent conversation if her life depended on it.

While he conducted business, she sat in the passenger seat of the Escalade, her hands gripped in her lap, her thumb pressed against the ring that circled her finger, still trying to sort through what had just occurred.

Why had he proposed? she asked herself for what seemed like the millionth time since Case had popped the question. He’d never once hinted at marriage, never so much as whispered the words “I love you.” They weren’t a couple … or at least she’d never considered them as such. The length of their relationship—if one could call it that—certainly didn’t lead a woman to expect a proposal. Two weeks was hardly enough time for two people to become acquainted, much less engaged.

She glanced down at her hand and the ring that adorned her left finger. The setting was gorgeous, with rows of baguettes surrounding a huge center diamond. Any woman who received such a stellar engagement ring should be ecstatic, over-the-moon in love.

Gina felt only nausea.

She needed answers, an explanation, but hadn’t a clue how to phrase them … or the opportunity to ask them, since the man with the answers was currently on the phone.

Case ended his call just as they stepped into her loft.

Gathering her nerve, she turned to face him and asked the single most question that burned in her mind. “Why did you ask me to marry you?”

He frowned, as if puzzled that she’d ask, then opened his hands. “I’d think that would be obvious.”

“Maybe to you it is, but it isn’t to me. My, God, Case! We’ve known each other less than two weeks!”

“I wasn’t aware there were time restrictions on how long a man had to wait before proposing.”

“That isn’t an answer,” she said impatiently. “And why did you propose in front of all those people? Everyone was staring at me. It was embarrassing.”

His smile indulgent, he crossed to her and caught her hands in his. “Gina, Gina, Gina,” he scolded gently. “There was no reason for you to be embarrassed. Those people, as you referred to them, are my family and friends. Becoming engaged is a big step, a milestone in my life, in our lives. I wanted them present to share in the occasion.” He gave her hands a tug, drawing her to him, then released them to wrap his arms around her. “Don’t be angry with me, darling.” He pressed a kiss against her forehead and her nose, then tipped her face up to his. “I wanted to make this special for you, for us. An event we would always remember.”

He tipped her face higher and she watched his face drift down, until his lips touched hers. “Please tell me you’re not angry with me,” he murmured. “I don’t want anything to mar this night.” He rained kisses over her face. “Please, Gina,” he begged softly.

Weak, she clung to him, all resistance melting from her. “I’m not angry. It’s just that … it was so totally unexpected.”

He withdrew slightly and caught her left hand. With his gaze on hers, he lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the ring he’d placed there. “Do you like your engagement ring?” he asked.

She shivered, as he stroked his thumb over the back of her knuckles. “I-it’s beautiful.”

He smiled, as if her response pleased him. “When I saw it, I knew it was meant for you.” He slipped his hands inside her jacket and rested them on her shoulders. “Did I tell you that you look beautiful tonight?” he asked softly. He dipped his head to nibble at her throat.

Closing her eyes, she let her head fall back, giving him easier access. “I-I don’t remember.”

“Then I’ll tell you now. You look beautiful.” He swept his hands out, easing her jacket over her shoulders. “Gorgeous, as radiant as any bride on her wedding night.”

Goose bumps pebbled her flesh as he smoothed his hands down her arms, relieving her of her jacket and letting it fall to the floor in a heap at their feet. Her breath was coming faster and faster, heat danced beneath her skin. She wanted to open her eyes, anchor herself on something substantial to still the dizziness, but her lids were simply too heavy to lift.

She felt his fingers at the back of her neck, heard the soft scrape of her shell’s zipper, as he pulled the tab down.

“Case,” she said breathlessly. “Stop. Please.”

He closed his mouth over hers and peeled the shell from her body, tossed it aside. “There’s no reason to stop,” he said, nipping at her lips. “We’re engaged now. Remember?”

She gulped, remembering she’d told him that she wouldn’t sleep with a man until she was married to him, or at the very least engaged.

And, as of three hours ago, she was engaged to Case Fortune.

“Feel this?” he asked, rocking his groin against hers. “That, my darling, is passion, what you do to me.”

A knot twisted in her belly, fear of the unknown. She was grossly inexperienced when it came to sex. Yet, her body responded to his caresses, to the heat that burned between them. Her hands itched to touch him, as he was touching her, to explore his body in the same way he was exploring hers. Her breasts ached for his touch, her lips for his kiss. She wanted him, what pleasure he offered, the secrets he could show her, there was no questioning that.

Growing bold, she slid her hands to his waist and, with trembling fingers, eased his shirttail from his slacks. She felt the quickening of his body as her fingers brushed his skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest against her breasts.

“I want you in bed,” he murmured against her lips and began backing her in that direction as he stripped off his dinner jacket. “I want you naked beneath me, your legs spread beneath mine, your arms around me.”

His whispered list of wants made her pulse kick into a faster beat, her womb throb in anticipation. By the time her legs bumped the side of her bed, his jacket and shirt were gone, his chest bare. She gulped, watching, as he unfastened his slacks, pushed them down his legs. His erection pushed at the fly of powder blue boxer shorts.

Swallowing hard, she lifted her gaze to his. “I’ve never done this before,” she said uneasily.

His lips curving in a tender smile, he cupped a hand at her cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you all you need to know.”

She gulped again, then stepped out of her heels and slacks. Down to her bra and panties, she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around her middle to cover herself as she watched Case pull back the covers.

When he turned back to her, her heart shot to her throat. His eyes, always a gorgeous blue, seemed to have taken on a darker hue, one that smoldered and burned. He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek. “Make love with me, Gina.”

His voice was husky, his touch gentle, as he cupped her face. Helpless to do anything else, she stepped into his embrace, his kiss.

His lips were first soft, then commanding, as he used his chest to force her back on the bed. She felt as if every nerve ending in her body was cued to register each new sensation. The weight of his body sinking against hers, the heat that seeped into her skin, the sweep of his tongue around her mouth. With a hand cupped on her breast between them, he kneaded the mound, making her nipple ache to be touched as well.

Within minutes, she was writhing beneath him, her body demanding a satisfaction she had no idea how to ask for.

“Case,” she begged breathlessly. “Please.”

“Give me a minute.” He rolled off her and stretched to retrieve something from the pocket of his slacks. A condom, she realized nervously, and gulped, as she watched him open the package and slip it into place.

Protected now, he slid a hand down her back and rolled her to her side to face him. With his gaze on hers, he stripped off her panties, then settled his hand between her legs.

She tensed, gasping, as his fingers brushed her center.

“Ssh,” he soothed, kissing her. “I won’t hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re ready.”

She nodded, then closed her eyes on a groan, as he began to stroke her, slow, feather-light brushes of his fingers along her femininity. She felt the heat rising deep inside her, the softening of her walls. Fire burned behind her eyes, in her lungs, beneath her skin.

This is torture, was all she could think. The most unbelievable pleasure-evoking, mind-numbing torture she’d ever experienced in her life and she wanted more. She felt the tip of his finger slide inside and tensed against the pressure.

“Relax,” he soothed.

His voice became both balm and sorcerer, calming her fears, even as it fanned the flames higher. Her breath grew labored, her womb throbbed for release.

As if sensing her increasing need, he cupped a hand behind her knee and drew her leg over his. “I won’t hurt you,” he said again, shifting his hips against hers.

Closing her eyes against the heat that threatened to consume her, she nodded.

She felt the nudge of his sex at her opening, and her breath snagged in her lungs.

“Breathe,” he urged against her lips. “Just breathe. Let yourself go.”

The pressure of his hips against hers increased as he pushed slowly inside. Gasping, desperate to escape this ache that thrummed so deeply inside her, she arched, and he slid a little deeper. One of his hands fanned her buttocks, holding her against him, the other cupped her face. She could feel his breath against her lips, hear the huskiness in his voice, as he murmured words of encouragement.

He inched deeper and met resistance.

“Trust me, baby,” he whispered as he clasped her buttocks between his hands. Holding her in place, he pushed his hips forward. She gasped, as pain, red hot and searing, shot through her. A split second later it was gone, giving way to the most incredible flood of sensations.

This is what it means to become one, she thought in wonder, as she struggled to absorb what was happening to her. The most intimate of joinings. Awed by the experience, she opened her eyes, needing to create a visual connection with Case, as well as the physical one they shared, and found him watching her. His face was taut with restraint, his eyes dark with passion. A fine sheen of perspiration beaded his upper lip and his chest. She knew without asking what his self-control was costing him.

Her heart melted at the sacrifice he was willing to make for her, the gentleness with which he had handled her. Looping her arms around his neck, she drew his mouth to hers. “Don’t hold back,” she whispered against his lips. “Give me everything.”

With a groan, he rolled her to her back and surged deeper, his hips pumping against hers in a rhythmic dance Gina found easy to follow. Pressure slowly built inside her, squeezing the breath from her lungs, closing her throat. She felt Case tense, his body going as rigid as steel, the tremble in the legs clamped against hers, the quiver of arms he’d braced at either side of her face.

Eyes now open wide in wonder, she watched the passion build on his face, felt the shudder of release that shook him from head to toe, heard the low growl he emitted and absorbed the sound as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Like a sail that had lost its wind, he sank slowly down over her, with a sigh, and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Touched by his concern, it took her a moment to find her voice.

“Yes,” she whispered, then wrapped her arms around him and held him close, knowing how inadequate the word was, how incredibly short it fell of describing her true feelings.

With their hearts beating in rhythm, she closed her eyes and slept.

Gina decided she much preferred being awakened by a man than an alarm clock. Butterfly kisses on her eyelids, light strokes of his hands over her belly, whispered words that both seduced and intrigued. Snuggled close against Case’s side, she was more than willing to spend the entire day like this.

“Well, well, well.”

Gina was so relaxed, so content, it took her a moment to realize that a third person had joined her and Case in her bedroom. When she did, she popped up like a jack-in-a-box to find Zoie standing at the foot of her bed. Mortified that she’d been caught naked in bed with Case, she grabbed the covers and clutched them to her chin.

Case didn’t seem to suffer the same embarrassment. He sat up, stretching like a cat.

“Good morning, Zoie.”

“Yes it is,” she agreed, then dropped her gaze to the point where the covers gathered loosely at his waist and smiled. “And it’s getting better by the minute.”

Pursing her lips in annoyance, Gina snatched the covers to hold up high on Case’s chest. “You might’ve knocked first,” she snapped irritably.

“I did,” Zoie replied, then shrugged. “Guess you couldn’t hear it over all the heavy breathing.”

Irritated that her friend seemed to be enjoying her discomfort, Gina narrowed an eye at her. “What do you want?”

“Just dropped by to see if it was true,” Zoie replied, then grinned. “But I can see that it is.”

“What’s true?” Gina asked impatiently.

Zoie tossed the newspaper she held onto the bed. “See for yourself,” she said, then turned for the door with a casual, “Call me later,” tossed over her shoulder.

Her modesty forgotten, Gina snatched up the paper and flipped it open to find the headline Merger Of Fortunes and beneath it read, Author of children’s books pens her own fairy-tale ending. A stock photo of Case from the newspaper’s files was pictured alongside a publicity photo of her. The publicity pic was one her publisher had requested, in which she held a stuffed Timothy Toad at arm length’s, her lips puckered, as if she was about to kiss him.

Sickened by the sensationalistic slant to the announcement of their engagement, she shifted her gaze back to the headline. How could Case do this to her? she asked in disbelief. Had he been so sure of her answer, himself, that he would release the news to the paper before he’d even proposed?

“Why?” she cried softly, then turned to him, tears blurring her vision. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do what?” he asked in confusion.

She shoved the paper at him and pushed from the bed. “How could you do such a thing?” she cried. “Is your ego so big you never doubted for a minute that I’d say yes? That no woman would ever say no to the mighty Case Fortune?”

Frowning, Case dragged the paper onto his lap. He swore under his breath as he read the headline, then slapped the back of his hand against the paper. “Do you really think I’m responsible for this?” he asked angrily.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t me who leaked the news to the paper! I had no idea you intended to propose last night.”

He glared at her a long moment, his jaw clenched, then he heaved a sigh and stretched out a hand. “Come here.”

She hesitated a moment, not sure she wanted to touch him. Not after he’d turned their engagement into a media circus.

“Gina,” he said firmly.

Though reluctant, she put her hand in his and allowed him to draw her back to bed.

He draped an arm around her and pressed his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry, darling. I know this isn’t the way you probably dreamed of having your engagement announced to the world. What woman would? But I didn’t leak the news to the paper. I swear, it wasn’t me.” Sighing wearily, he rested his forehead against her head. “We need to go and see your father. I’m sure he’s seen this by now and is probably furious with me for not coming to him first and asking for your hand.”

She jerked from his side, her eyes wide in alarm. “No. I don’t want to see him.”

“But, Gina—”

“No! I don’t need his permission to marry. Whatever rights he had in my life he sacrificed a long time ago.”

“Okay, okay,” he soothed, and drew her back to his side. “We don’t have to go and see him.”

Blinking back tears, she sat huddled at his side, wishing desperately that she could roll the clock back an hour. Before she’d seen the headlines in the paper, she had been deliriously happy, her heart brimming with her love for Case.

She started at the unexpected thought. Love? She slowly relaxed, realizing it was true. She had fallen in love with Case. She didn’t know the precise moment when her feelings for him had grown to that point, but she knew without a doubt that she loved him.

But did he love her?

“Case?” she asked hesitantly.

“Hmm?”

“Do you love me?”

He drew back to look at her in puzzlement. “Where did that come from?”

Though as frightened to hear his answer as she had been embarrassed to ask the question, she had to know. “You’ve never said it. I just wondered.”

He stared at her a long moment, then smiled and hugged her to his side again. “I’d never marry a woman I didn’t love.”

Case punched in the security code to his penthouse and strode inside.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

He stopped short when he saw Creed stretched out on his sofa, then scowled. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking on you, big brother. Since you didn’t return to the estate last night, I thought you might have stayed here.” He gave Case’s rumpled clothing a pointed look. “But seeing as how you’re wearing the same clothes you had on last night, I assume you spent the night with your new fianceé.”

His scowl deepening, Case peeled off his dinner jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair. “So what if I did?”

Creed folded his hands behind his head. “That was quite a bomb you dropped on us last night.”

“Yeah. I imagine it was.”

“I knew you were determined to close the deal with Reynolds, but I never dreamed you’d go so far as marry his daughter in order to gain control of Reynolds Refining.”

Snorting a laugh, Case stripped off his shirt. “Who said anything about marriage?”

“You did. I heard the proposal myself.”

Case dropped his shirt and headed for his bedroom and the bathroom beyond. “There’s a mighty big gap between engagement and marriage.”

“What?” Creed bolted from the sofa and hurried after him. “Are you saying you don’t intend to marry Gina?”

Case twisted on the faucet in the shower. “I won’t have to.”

Scowling, Creed braced a shoulder against the doorframe. “Maybe you better explain.”

“Once Reynolds hears of the engagement—which I assume he has by now, thanks to whoever leaked the story to the newspaper—he’ll go along with the merger.”

“Why would he do that? He’s already told you he’s changed his mind.”

“His only objection was his desire to leave his daughter a legacy. Since Gina and I are now engaged, there’s no reason for him to delay any longer. He gets the money and, by marrying me, his daughter gets the company and the legacy he wanted for her … or so Curtis will think.”

Creed held up a hand. “Wait a minute. In order for Reynolds’ daughter to obtain partial ownership, the two of you would have to marry.”

His smile smug, Case unzipped his fly. “Which is the beauty of my little plan. I don’t have to marry her. I just have to make Reynolds think that I am. Once the merger is complete, I’ll break the engagement. Dakota Fortunes will own Reynolds Refining and I’ll still be a single man.”

Creed wagged his head sadly. “Brother, that’s low. Even for you.”

“Really? I think it’s rather magnanimous.” Case let his slacks drop and stepped out of them and into the shower. “Gina doesn’t want the company. Never has.”

“But you proposed to her,” Creed reminded him. “I doubt she’ll thank you for breaking the engagement.”

Case caught the shower curtain in his hand. “Not at first, maybe, but she will eventually. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said and jerked the curtain into place, blocking his brother, as well as the guilt he was trying to heap on him. “I prefer to shower alone.”

He waited until the bathroom closed behind Creed, then snatched up the bar of soap and began to lather his chest.

Gina would thank him, he told himself. She’d never be happy married to a man like him. She was much too sensitive, too … fragile a woman to survive marriage to a man like Case. She needed someone who would dote on her, someone less selfish, less ambitious. Someone who would love her for who she was, not for what she brought to the bargaining table.

Do you love me?

With a groan, he slumped forward, bracing his hands against the tiled wall, hearing again the uncertainty in her voice, the hope, the need, when she’d posed the question. And how had he responded?

He hadn’t. He’d cleverly dodged her question, using the evasive tactics he’d honed razor sharp in the business world.

Creed was right, he thought miserably. His treatment of Gina was low, even for him.

While Case was dealing with his guilt, Curtis Reynolds sat at the head of the table in his spacious dining room, reading the morning paper. As usual, he was alone, a fact that had begun to bother him of late.

When he’d first read the morning’s headline, he was shocked to discover that his daughter and Case were engaged. But his shock had quickly given way to satisfaction.

About time his daughter married, he told himself, as he sipped his coffee—though, sadly, it was too late for him to gain anything from the union. He would’ve liked to have had grandchildren. Preferably a boy, but at this point in his life, he would’ve welcomed a girl.

Reminded of the disease that was quickly eating away at his body and his life, he sat his coffee cup down and sank back in his chair with a weary sigh. Odd how mortality changed a man, he thought glumly. A year ago he wouldn’t have given grandchildren a thought. Now that he was facing death, the things he’d once considered so important had lost some of their shine. More and more often he found himself thinking about his wife, his daughter, and the mistakes he’d made with both, rather than the business he’d dedicated his life to building.

Stretching out a hand, he dragged the newspaper from the table and to his lap, the picture of his daughter in full view. She’d developed into a beautiful woman, he thought with a smidgen of pride … and more than a little regret. Not the beauty her mother had been, but an attractive young woman, none the less.

How long had it been since he’d seen her last? he wondered. Ten years? Probably closer to twelve. The summer before she began college, she’d made a brief visit home. He remembered the visit well. The flash of temper she’d displayed when he’d told her he was leaving on a business trip the day after her arrival. But he’d seen hurt in her eyes, as well. The disappointment. And that’s the memory that haunted him now.

It hadn’t at the time, he thought sadly. He’d dismissed the guilt, just as he had each time he’d witnessed similar reactions from his wife. He’d done so by telling himself that his business was important, that all the time he spent building Reynolds Refining was for his family, his wife and daughter. Hadn’t he provided them a cushy life? A regal home, a respected place in society, the finest of everything money could buy?

But now that he was facing his mortality, he realized the mistakes he’d made, all that he’d lost, just as his wife had tried to tell him so many times in the past. He was fifty-seven years old, still young really, but alone in the world. He’d driven his wife to suicide by allowing his ambition to supercede her needs and destroyed whatever chance he might’ve had at a relationship with his daughter.

And for what? he asked himself in frustration. A damn company. Earlier that week, he’d heard a Country Western song on the radio that pretty well capsulized the lesson he’d learned. The guy had been singing something about there not being any luggage racks on a hearse.

How true, he acknowledged sadly. He’d dedicated his life to building and collecting things. And now that he was facing the end of his life, he realized the mistakes he’d made, the lives he’d damaged, all he’d lost. In chasing the illusive rainbow of success, he’d sacrificed what was most important.

Family.

He dropped his head back against the chair with a sigh. For a man who’d spent the majority of his life alone, he’d never once suffered loneliness.

But now that he was facing death, it seemed loneliness was his constant companion.

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