Fortune's Proposal (11 page)

“You're going to want at least a forkful. They serve it over some sort of flavored cake with a chocolate mole sauce.” His smile was lazy and full of promise. “You'll think you've died and gone to heaven.”

Considering the datelike quality of the evening, Deanna wasn't sure she hadn't already done so. But she shook her head ruefully. “Fine. A forkful only, though. I still need to be able to fit into my clothes when we go back to California.”

In the flickering light of the candle that burned in the center of the table, Drew's gaze seemed warmer than ever as it glided over her. “I'm pretty sure you're safe,” he murmured.

If they'd been back at the office in San Diego, his ball cap would have been turned backward and his eyes would have been full of all sorts of wicked.

Her fingers curled where they rested in her lap, safely hidden by the linen tablecloth on the table.

This is not a date. This is not a date.

She'd been repeating the mantra ever since Drew had opened the door of the low-slung sports car of J.R.'s that he'd borrowed for the evening. But the words were having even less effect now than they had then.

“I, um, am going to excuse myself for a quick moment,” she finally said and started to push back the heavy chair that only seemed to make her more aware of her femininity, while making him look even more impossibly masculine.

He smoothly rose, though, and had pulled out her chair for her before she could so much as move it an inch.

He was wearing a crew-neck black sweater and the soft knit closely covering his wide shoulder was so close to her that she could have brushed her cheek against it.

She inhaled carefully as desire clutched inside her, hard and fast. Her legs felt shaky as she rose and stepped away from the table, trying to focus on the delectable aromas of food all around them and not on the delectable scent of him. “Thank you.”

His smile was faint and she quickly turned away, only to nearly collide with a pretty waitress bearing a heavy tray toward the table next to them. But Drew's hand closed around Deanna's waist, scooping her aside, and the waitress smiled and shifted around her, continuing on her way without mishap.

“Okay?” Drew's word stirred the hair at her temple.

“Fine.” If fine meant one who could hardly breathe. She took a step and his arm fell away and before she could do something really stupid, like pull it back around her, she headed much more carefully between the crowded tables until she reached the sanctuary of the ladies' room.

She ran her hot wrists under cool water at the hammered metal sink and looked sternly at her reflection.

Her eyes looked too wide for her face and color seemed to burn up her skin from the wide, low scooping neckline of the impossibly girly dress.

“This is not a date,” she muttered.

“'Scuse me?” A striking, gray-haired woman wearing a mint's worth of turquoise jewelry stepped up to the sink beside her and smiled. “You all right, honey? You look a mite shaky.”

Deanna nodded. “I'm fine.”

“Handsome man waiting out there for you, I bet.” She grinned. “That's what always gets me to feeling a little flustered.”

Deanna managed an embarrassed smile. If it was obvious to a complete and utter stranger, then it would surely be like a neon light flashing in Drew's face.

“Just remember what my mama always told me.” The woman plucked a folded paper towel off the stack of them sitting between the sinks. “Doesn't matter how much a man makes you breathless, darlin', any man worth his salt is gonna work darn hard to prove you make him feel the same way before he expects to go walking in your flower garden, if you know what I mean.”

Despite herself, Deanna couldn't help but laugh. “Okay. Thanks for the advice.”

“Then when he does come to smell those flowers o' yours, you knock his socks right off.” The woman winked and sailed out the door.

Deanna gave a faint laugh again and turned off the water.

She dried her hands and smoothed down the full skirt of the butter-yellow dress that Isabella had loaned her.

She couldn't imagine ever knocking Drew's socks off, but it was certainly an intriguing image…

“This is not a date,” she whispered again.

Feeling a little more controlled, she went back out to the dining room, only to find an older woman standing next to Drew, her hand on his shoulder as they laughed together.

They both seemed to notice Deanna at the same moment, and the woman—slightly shorter than Deanna, and far more curvaceous in her black slacks and ruffled red blouse—stepped forward and caught Deanna's hands in hers. “So this is the one to catch our Andrew's heart.” With no hesitation at all, she leaned up and kissed Deanna's cheeks. “And no wonder. Such a beautiful girl.”

Deanna couldn't help but smile in the face of the woman's infectious greeting.

“Deanna, this is Maria Mendoza,” Drew introduced. “She and her husband, Jose, are the ones who founded this place.”

“Sí, sí.”
Maria tucked her arm around Deanna's waist and squeezed. “We have seen many romances come to fruition here at Red.” Her dark eyes danced. “But I'm glad to see our Drew has beautiful company tonight, unlike the other evenings he's sat alone at the bar.”

Deanna shot Drew a startled look.

He'd grabbed the woman's wrinkling hand and pulled her toward him to drop a noisy kiss on her cheek. “You were as much beautiful company as I could handle, Maria.”

“Bah. Not even a devil like you can make my Jose jealous.” She lightly slapped his hands and turned again to Deanna. “Andrew tells me how hard you work,
niña,
while he worries and searches for his father.” She gave Drew a look. “That's a good woman to have by your side through life.”

Drew's smile stayed in place, but Deanna wondered if Maria could see the shadows that entered his gaze as easily as she could.

“But enough of worrisome things.” Maria clasped her hands together. “When is the wedding date?”

Deanna shot Drew a look. “We—”

“We haven't had a chance to set one,” he said smoothly, and his gaze looked as clear as ever, making Deanna wonder if the shadows had been her imagination after all.

“But do you want a big wedding, or small…” Maria smiled, surprisingly impish for a woman who Deanna guessed was well into her seventies. “I never tire of weddings.”

“Deanna doesn't like being the center of attention,” Drew said, looking oddly serious.

“Ah.” Maria nodded sagely. “A small, intimate affair, then. Or even an elopement?” She sighed happily. “So romantic.” Then she waved at their seats. “Now, forgive an old woman and sit. Sit. Andrew wants me to bring out my flan for you,
niña.
You'll sit in the candlelight and feed each other and fall in love all over again.” She squeezed Drew's cheeks, then Deanna's, and hurried through the tables, purpose in her steps.

Deanna blinked a little and slowly sat. “Wow.”

“That's a good word to describe Maria.” Drew took his own seat. “You could have told her we weren't really engaged. It's going to come out sooner or later, because my father's not coming back.”

Deanna went still. Her unwise enjoyment of their not-a-date started to drain away. “You don't know that, Drew. You can't give up hope. Not yet.”

“Can't I?” His gaze skewered hers. “What about any of this is giving you hope?”

He was talking about his father, but he might as well have been talking about them. She tried to clear the knot out of her throat and failed. “If that's the way you feel, then you…you could have corrected Maria yourself about—” She broke off and waved her hand. The diamond ring glittered in the candlelight. “Particularly because it seems you've been spending plenty of time here on your own.”

His lips tightened. “I had to go somewhere.” His voice was too low for anyone but her to hear.

“Why?” She lowered her voice, too, leaning toward him across the table. This, she knew, wasn't about his father. “Just to get away from me?”

“Yes.”

Even though she'd expected exactly that answer, she still felt a hideous sting.

But at least now she had her answer.

The kiss they'd shared that afternoon that had rocked her existence had been from a man who'd simply needed comfort.

Even comfort from the likes of her.

She blinked hard, looking away from him.

This is definitely not a date.

“Here we are.” Maria returned, bearing a white plate
with the beautifully presented custard dessert that she set between them with a beaming smile. She handed Deanna a sparkling silver spoon, and another to Drew. “Enjoy.” With a sly smile, she quickly moved away from the table.

Deanna was afraid that if she put one spoon in her mouth she would be sick. But she was very aware of Maria watching from the sidelines and the delightful woman had done nothing to deserve being disappointed.

It wasn't Maria's fault that she—like everyone else—had all too easily believed the lie that she and Drew had perpetrated.

So Deanna dipped the tip of the spoon through the ruffles of whipped cream, glistening chocolate sauce and silky custard and tucked it into her mouth. Flavors exploded in her mouth and she forced a smile in Maria's direction. “Delicious.”

Maria's eyebrows rose and she nodded, making her silver-streaked dark hair bounce around her shoulders. Her hands fluttered in an urging sort of way.

Deanna looked back at Drew. She scooped up another spoon of the confection and leaned across the table toward him. “Open up.” Her voice was flat.

He slowly leaned closer, too, and put his lips around the spoon.

Her hand trembled violently and she quickly sat back in her chair, setting the spoon down on the linen tablecloth. “There. I had a bite. It's delicious. So can we go now?”

“I don't leave because I don't want to be around you.” His voice was low, but deliberate. He slowly dipped his own spoon into the dessert. “I leave because I do. Too much.”

The aching tightness at the back of her jaws went lax. Butterflies suddenly flitted around inside her chest. “Excuse me?”

He lifted the spoon and held it toward her. “Open.”

She mindlessly parted her lips and leaned forward.

The cool silver spoon slipped past and just as mindlessly, she closed her lips softly over the tidbit.

He slowly withdrew the spoon. “Kind of tastes like flowers, doesn't it?”

A shiver worked down her spine. “Flowers?”

“Whatever stuff it is that Maria refuses to say is in her recipe.” He scooped a spoonful into his mouth and his hooded eyes narrowed for a moment in appreciation.

Deanna swallowed, her mouth running dry. Her hands curled around the heavy, carved arms of her chair.

“Not that I know what a flower really tastes like,” he continued, dipping the spoon yet again before extending it toward her. “But that's what I can't help thinking every time I put my mouth around it.”

“Flowers,” she murmured huskily.

His dimple flirted next to the faint smile on his lips. “A whole damn garden of 'em.”

She exhaled and leaned forward, parting her lips for another bite.

“T
hat's going to be one lucky baby coming into the world with you two as parents.” Drew lifted his wineglass in a toast toward Isabella and J.R. who were standing arm in arm in front of the fireplace where a low fire was crackling with a comfortable warmth.

“Hear, hear,” Jeremy echoed.

They, along with Lily and the rest of their brothers and their wives, had gathered in the great room at Molly's Pride later that week to celebrate the coming baby.

They could easily have included more of the family, but Isabella had persuaded J.R. to keep things small. “We'll have even more to celebrate with everyone when your father returns,” she'd told him.

Now, as she watched the family mingle, Deanna fervently hoped that the Fortune and Mendoza families would have that opportunity. Unfortunately, judging
from the expressions on some of the faces there, she knew that after two weeks since their father had gone missing, at least some of them—Drew particularly—were seriously doubting whether that day would come.

Not that Drew had said anything more than he had that evening at Red. Not that Drew had done anything more than what he'd done that evening at Red, either.

She was torn between wanting to comfort and encourage him to have more faith where his father was concerned—even though she had her own painful doubts after all this time—and wanting to kick herself for continuing to fall into his allure when she ought to know better. And in the end, all she seemed capable of doing was walking on eggshells around him whenever they were alone.

Which, thanks to his admittedly valid excuse of hunting down leads over his missing father, were increasingly rare.

She shook her head when Nick passed by with another wine bottle and lifted her glass, which was still nearly full. Everyone had a glass. Even Isabella, though hers was filled with fruit juice.

Bethany sank onto the couch next to where Deanna sat. “Darr told me that you went with Drew and Ross to see the car when they first learned about it.” She kept her voice low, sliding a glance toward Lily, who was standing near the windows with Drew and Jeremy. “I don't think I could have stood to see it. It must have been so disturbing.”

“It was.” In so many more ways than Deanna could share with anyone, except Drew. And especially Drew. “The, uh, the car's in a very remote location,” she added, trying to focus on the conversation at hand, and not the
subject of her thoughts who was looking terribly solemn as he stood with his father's fiancée, his half-empty wineglass dangling from his long fingers.

Charlene joined them, perching on the arm of the couch. She'd obviously overheard. “The guys are all going back tomorrow. They're going to take some climbing equipment and do a more extensive search. Try to reach the areas where the search dogs couldn't go.”

Deanna's gaze sought out Drew again. He was wearing an oatmeal-colored shirt that she knew wasn't his and blue jeans that she knew were and his dark hair was brushed severely back from his face. Even from across the room she could see his pensive expression that didn't quite fit what was supposed to be a celebration.

She could hardly envision another search of the accident site, much less imagine Drew wanting to return there. If they found William in an area even less accessible, they surely wouldn't be finding him alive.

And maybe Bethany and Charlene were thinking the same thing because neither one of them pursued the topic any further. Instead, they all looked over to where J.R. was still holding Isabella close against his side.

“I love the idea of another baby,” Charlene said, grinning a little. She was obviously determined to find a more cheerful subject. “Particularly one that I don't have to be pregnant with just yet.”

Bethany laughed softly. “I wouldn't mind it so much, though it would probably be wiser to wait until Randi's through her terrorizing twos. What about you, Deanna? Do you and Drew plan to have kids right away or wait a while?”

Startled, Deanna's gaze finally broke away from Drew, but she could only stare at the other woman. She
couldn't come up with an appropriate response to save her soul.

“Knowing Drew, I'll bet he wants to hold off on that,” Charlene inserted, seemingly unaware of Deanna's tied tongue.

Bethany nodded knowingly. “But then, we figured Drew was going to hold off forever on getting married. Turns out we didn't know as much as we thought we did. So…?” She turned her bright gaze back to Deanna.

“I…I would like to have children,” she finally managed. She was miserably afraid that her cheeks were red, even though she hadn't technically lied.

“Just not right away,” Bethany guessed helpfully. Her eyes sparkled with merriment.

“Settling into married life is pretty fun,” Charlene agreed. “If you know what I mean.”

Deanna smiled weakly as the other two women laughed.

“Mind if I steal my fiancée?” Drew suddenly appeared, leaning over them from behind the couch.

Deanna quickly slid off the couch and smoothed down the gauzy white skirt that was another loaner from Isabella. She didn't know what Drew wanted, but she was almost pathetically grateful for the interruption, despite the fear that she could very well be jumping from the fat into the fire.

And when he wrapped his hand around hers as they left the room, that fear deepened even more.

It wasn't fear of him. Just the knowledge that—where Drew was concerned—she was totally out of her depth.

Since he'd—intentionally or not—left her feeling practically seduced over Maria Mendoza's flan at Red, he hadn't so much as touched her. Nor had he
changed his ways when it came to sharing the bed in their guest room.

He didn't say a word now either, as he drew her through the house, only stopping once as they went through the laundry room, to hook a jacket off one of the pegs near the back door.

“It's cold.” He finally let go of her hand, only to push the jacket into it as he ushered her outside.

Her teeth were in danger of chattering, but it wasn't the chilly night air that was the cause. Nevertheless, she managed to tug the somewhat stiff, woven coat around the shoulders of the loose-knit blouse without fumbling with it too badly. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wanted some air.” He made a low sound and grabbed the lapels of the jacket and pulled them close beneath her chin. “Judging by your expression in there, I thought you looked about like I felt.” He headed down the shallow steps away from the house and the warm glow of light. “What were you all talking about anyway?”

She chewed her lip and followed. “They wanted to know if we were planning on having children right away or if we wanted to wait a while.” She hoped the darkness did a better job of hiding her hot cheeks than it did the surprise in his expression as he looked back at her.

“And what did you tell them?”

“What does it matter? None of it's real anyway.”

“Maybe I'm curious.”

She let out a huff and lifted her hands. “Fine. I told them the truth. That, yes,
I
would like to have children someday. Obviously, I wasn't answering for you.” The low heel of the tall boots she'd borrowed from Isabella caught slightly in the ground and Drew's arm shot out, catching her shoulder.

“Watch your step.”

She was trying to. Literally and metaphorically. “Thanks,” she mumbled and continued walking, grateful when his hand fell away. “What were you and Jeremy talking about with Lily?”

“What does it matter?”

“Maybe I'm curious,” she returned pointedly.

He exhaled noisily. “I was apologizing to her, okay? For being such an ass about everything when she and my father got involved.”

Her footsteps halted. “You apologized?”

He stopped, too. “You think I'm incapable of it or something?”

“No, of course not. I'm just—”

“—surprised.”

“Yes. And glad.” Maybe he'd stop torturing himself so much over what couldn't be changed.

He made a low sound that could have meant anything. “She said that it would mean a lot to my father that we were all here in Red Rock. Supporting her. Supporting each other.” His lips twisted slightly. “She said how much he loved us all. How proud he was of us.” Her heart ached when his voice went rough.

“She knew about the picture,” he added after a moment. “The one of my mother. Jeremy told her I'd found it. But she already knew that Dad always kept it in his sun visor.” He cleared his throat abruptly. “She said she knew how much my mother meant to him because that's how she felt about Ryan and it's one of the reasons she loves Dad as much as she does. Loves. Present tense.” He shook his head. “She hasn't lost hope at all.”

While Drew was losing more by the day. Deanna pushed her hands in the pockets of her jacket before they
could reach for him. “I'm glad you talked with her,” she said again.

“She also said that it means a lot to her that Jeremy and I have stayed in Red Rock.”

“I'm sure it would.”

He started walking again. “Since when have you wanted kids?”

Despite the aching wish that she could take away some of his pain, she felt herself bristle. “Why wouldn't I? Not everyone is phobic about such things like you are and it's a pretty average desire.” They were nearing one of the barns and Drew's hand touched the small of her back, directing her around the side of it where the smell of mowed grass was strong, even at that hour.

“I never said I had a phobia about kids.”

“Are you saying you'd like to have them?” Disbelief dripped from her voice.

“I never didn't want them. But kids are better off when they're raised by married parents. I know that's not the way a lot of families are now, but it's still what I believe.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, she lifted her eyebrows, trying to hide it. “And since marriage is one of your phobias…”

“Our marriage excluded, of course,” he said wryly.

How easily he could be wry while she felt wholly off balance. But she managed a shrug and a casual “of course.”

At the rate things had gone since William disappeared, she couldn't envision their “engagement” ever reaching an altar-bound conclusion anyway. She felt certain that he was thinking the same thing, particularly after their dinner at Red.

“I just never heard you talk about wanting kids before,” he added.

She couldn't fathom where his sudden interest had come from.

He was so much easier to deal with when he behaved exactly the way she expected.

No surprises.

But all he'd been since they'd arrived in Texas was one tall, disturbing, heart-wrenching surprise.

She clutched the jacket more closely around her, willing away a shiver, and quickened her step even more.

Maybe he just wanted to focus on something other than his father and his conversation with Lily. “It's not as if I spend my entire day at the office talking about my personal wishes and aspirations,” she pointed out.

“No. Until New Year's Eve, you barely acted as if you had any desires outside of work at all.”

She had one overriding desire, and considering everything, he had to know by now as well as she did that he was it. “Personal lives should have no place in the workplace.”

“So says Gigi's daughter.” He caught her shoulder again, halting her forward momentum. “Your mother has been all about being personal in the workplace, so you've gone to the opposite extreme.”

There was no point in denying the truth. Particularly because he knew about her mother now, too. She crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't imagine why he'd have an issue over her practice. Aside from his penchant for dating money-hungry bimbos that he enlisted her aid when it was time to send them on their way, he didn't really bring much of his truly personal life into the office, either. “I don't imagine that you'd
want it otherwise. The thing you like best about me is that I'm a focused assistant.”

So focused and dedicated in fact, she thought hopelessly, that he'd figured she'd happily disappear back into the woodwork where she'd always been once his need of her as his convenient wife was over.

He let out a faint sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a cough. “Don't be so certain that you know what I like best about you.”

Which had her shivering all over again.

She might as well be a pendulum of emotion where he was concerned, swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other. And she couldn't seem to do one thing about it but stay here in Red Rock with him even when she figured that the only reason he hadn't sent her away by now was because he “appreciated” the work she'd been doing on his behalf for Fortune Forecasting.

His hand was still curving around her shoulder, adding fuel to her agitation. She shifted from one foot to the other, and tightened her folded arms.

His hand still didn't fall away.

And despite the moonlight, his hooded gaze was making her distinctly edgy. She wasn't sure her heart could take another episode of wondering if she was misinterpreting every move he made. Everything he said.

She sucked in her lower lip for a second. “Charlene said that all of you are going back to the accident site tomorrow with hiking equipment and searching the area more.”

He nodded.

“You're really going to go with them?”

He nodded again. “Yes.”

“Are you sure you want to?” Hadn't he seen enough of the devastation for one lifetime?

“The only thing I'm sure about right now is that I want to sleep with you.”

The world felt as if it came to a screeching halt. Everything inside her went still. She stared at him.

His hand slowly, deliberately, slid over her shoulder until the warm tips of his fingers delved beneath the jacket collar to graze her skin. “Cat got your tongue?”