My Fair Fortune
Author
Nancy Robards Thompson
Reads
17.8K
Chapters
14
Chapter One
February
“Brides or grooms?” the tall, handsome guy asked.
He had a British accent.
Caitlyn Moore had locked eyes with the tall hunk of gorgeousness only a moment before he’d moved across the room to stand next to her. The accent was the icing on top of an already delicious-looking bit of eye candy.
Too bad eye candy wasn’t on her diet.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
“Are you here in support of a friend or relative of one of the brides or one of the grooms? Or, perhaps, you’re acquainted with all of them?”
When he’d said all of them, he wasn’t kidding. There were four of each—this was the soon-to-be-famous Grand Fortune wedding—and Caitlyn didn’t know a single one of them personally. From what she’d heard, the Fortunes always did everything in a big way.
“None of the above,” she said.
“So you’re a wedding crasher, then?” Twin dimples winked at her when he smiled.
“No, of course not.”
Dressed in an expensive-looking dark suit and crisp white shirt, the Brit had a cocksure James Bond air about him. He probably didn’t have to work very hard at getting women to engage. Still, Caitlyn didn’t feel like explaining that she hated weddings and wouldn’t be here unless it was absolutely necessary. She’d come in place of her parents, who had received the invitation to Horseback Hollow’s social event of the decade...in a town this small, it might even be the wedding of the century.
Tonight not one, but four Fortunes had gotten married on their parents’ sprawling ranch. They’d exchanged vows on a huge outdoor stage that had been constructed for the ceremony. She’d overheard someone talking about how the large red barn on the property had been renovated especially for tonight’s reception. The place looked like a magical wonderland lit by thousands of candles and twinkle lights. There were so many flowers she shuddered to think of the bottom line on the florist’s bill. It might even surpass the catering bill for the sumptuous-looking buffet dinner, which she was going to miss because her objective was to sign the guest book and leave. No one would miss her if she left a little early, especially since she was there on a mission that might best be described as keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.
In this case, the Fortunes—all fifty jillion of them—were the enemy.
It still baffled her that the Fortunes, who had gone to such lengths to get the locals all riled up, making everyone believe that her family’s venture, Cowboy Country USA, a Western-themed amusement park, was the root of all evil and would be the demise of Horseback Hollow, would invite her family to the wedding.
Her parents had regretted missing out, but her father had fallen ill this morning, and her mother had stayed home to care for him. Caitlyn had come to the wedding on their behalf, to represent the Moore family and Cowboy Country. She wasn’t here to glad-hand and win people over, of course. She’d simply signed the guest book Alden Moore and family, a subtle reminder that Moore Entertainment was not the enemy. On the contrary. They wanted to be the good neighbor, getting along with the residents of Horseback Hollow, every one of whom, it seemed, had been invited to the wedding.
She looked at the Brit, who wasn’t acting shy about eyeing her.
And that part of the saying that talked about keeping your friends close? Yeah. It definitely applied to this new friend.
A moment ago, she was sure her work here was done, and all she needed to do was wait for the brides and grooms to finish their first dance before she made a discreet exit; except now the hot guy with the cool accent was smiling at her like he found her utterly fascinating.
“All right, then, love,” he purred. “What is your story?”
He pinned her with the most spectacular pair of blue eyes she’d ever seen before arching his right brow a fraction of an inch in a manner that suggested he was waiting for her to elaborate. And then there was that accent. Why had she always been a sucker for an accent? It was her libido’s Achilles’ heel.
“What?” she said. “Are you the bouncer here to throw me out?”
He crossed his arms and appraised her in a less than subtle way that had her insides going all warm and melty. She needed to stop that right now. Mirroring his stance, she crossed her arms and tilted her chin up, hoping for some self-preservation, but her warm and melty insides offered no structure. Her resolve started to slowly crumble under the heat.
“If you must know,” she said. “I’m here by proxy.”
“I didn’t realize wedding invitations were transferable,” he said. “Don’t worry, I won’t land you in it, because—” he leaned in and whispered in her ear “—really, I don’t belong here, either.”
I won’t land you in it. He was so maddeningly, adorably British it was almost too much, and he was standing so close that she could smell his cologne—something that was probably expensive. Something vaguely green and woodsy—maybe sandalwood...and some cedar—and oh, so manly and delicious.
“So you’re the one who doesn’t belong here?” she countered. “How do you know I’m not the wedding police, ready to bounce you?”
His eyes glistened as his gaze made an even bolder perusal of her body, meandering down the length of her and back up again. Her heart beat with the pulse of the music, and she reveled in this irresistible, magnetic physical awareness.
“Not in that dress, love.”
His breath held a faint hint of peppermint.
“What’s wrong with my dress?”
“Not a bloody thing.”
He flashed a smile that showcased perfect white teeth, and there were those dimples again.
Oh, God, just take me now.
A thrill the likes of which Caitlyn had never experienced skittered down her spine, waking up places that had been sleeping for far too long. This was...fun. A lot more fun than she’d dreamed she’d have tonight.
As a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne, he grabbed two flutes and handed one to her.
“Thank you.” She raised her glass to him, and he followed suit, clinking his to hers before they sipped.
She’d purchased the red dress and strappy heels on the fly this morning. Since she’d only planned on visiting her parents for a few days, she’d packed light and casual. She hadn’t brought along anything that was appropriate for an elaborate Valentine’s Day wedding. She’d been pleasantly surprised to find the flirty little dress in a boutique in Lubbock. With his eyes on her, it felt a whole lot sexier than it had when she’d tried it on and decided it would do. She hadn’t really been excited about the dress or the thought of attending the wedding of four couples she didn’t know. It had barely been a year since she’d called off her own engagement.
The only reason she’d agreed to come tonight was because it had seemed so important to her father. He’d asked her to represent the family because he thought it would be a sign of solidarity for the good folks of Horseback Hollow, or possibly considered a slight if no one from the Moore family bothered to attend. As if anyone would even notice in such a crowd.
Who knew she’d meet someone so fun to play with. Maybe she wasn’t in quite as big a hurry to leave after all. Then again, if she knew what was good for her, she’d leave right now before she gave this Brit a chance to charm her new red dress right off her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Cait—” She always went by Caitlyn, but tonight it felt more fun to simply be Cait.
“Ah, as in Kiss Me, Kate?”
“Oh, are you a fan of musical theater?”
“Not particularly. I simply wanted to say that.” Their gazes locked. “Kiss me...Cait.”
For the life of her, she didn’t know what came over her, because the next thing she knew, she was leaning in and claiming his lips.
She didn’t even know his name, but she adored the taste of him—champagne and mint...and something else she couldn’t name, something that made her lose herself a little bit and lean in a little closer. His kiss sang through her veins, sent spirals of longing coursing through her, causing the fire deep in her most personal places to rage.
It had been a long time since she’d kissed a man. Since Eric— No, she wouldn’t think about him. Eric would not ruin this moment...or this night, which was becoming better and better with each passing second.
The sound of the bandleader inviting the wedding guests to join the happy couples on the dance floor edged out the interloping thoughts of her ex. When she pulled back, the reality of what she’d just done washed away any lingering residue of Eric.
She’d kissed a man she’d known for less than ten minutes.
And she wanted to kiss him again.
* * *
Bloody hell.
Those were the only words echoing in Brodie Fortune Hayes’s mind as he locked lips with Cait. And he meant those words in the best, most reverent way possible. Just when he thought he’d seen everything, life threw him a curvy surprise wrapped in a sexy red dress. He was obviously finding it difficult to express exactly how much he liked this shapely little package. All he knew was what had started out as a night of familial obligation was turning out to be rather mind-blowing.
Cait pulled back just enough to gaze up at him through thick, dark lashes. She had the loveliest green eyes he’d ever seen. “By the way, what’s your name?”
“Brodie,” he heard himself murmur.
“Brodie the Brit,” she said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cait from Chicago. I’d shake your hand, but...” She leaned in and dusted his lips with a featherlight kiss. Then she smiled up at him, looking rather pleased with herself.
“Charming to meet you, Cait from Chicago.”
The band shifted from an up-tempo tune into a slow, sultry number just as he decided to lean in for another taste of those lips, but Cait pulled away.
“Listen,” she said. “This has been fun, but I really should go now.”
“What? But we just got here. Well, we just got here.”
He reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m quite eager to see where we’ll go next.”
She opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, hesitated then pressed her lips together, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth in a way that nearly drove him mad.
“Dance with me?” he said.
Of course, he wouldn’t force her to do anything she didn’t want to do, but he’d try his best to convince her.
“Just one dance,” he said. “If you want to go after that, I won’t argue.”
He took her hand, fully prepared to let go if she protested. But she didn’t.
As he led her onto the dance floor, he noticed his brother Oliver dancing with Shannon Singleton, the pretty brunette they’d sat with during the ceremony. Oliver seemed to be lost in the moment as he gazed into Shannon’s eyes. But when Cait sank into Brodie’s arms and he pulled her closer, his body responded, and then it was as if they were the only two people in the entire world.
They swayed to the strains of “Unforgettable” and kept dancing close through a couple of fast songs, until the band decided to mix things up with a country-rock medley, and an overzealous guest, who was dancing with a beer in his hand, tried to demonstrate his John Travolta moves and upended it on the dance floor.
“Okay, what do you say we take a break?” Brodie suggested. “How about if I get us something to drink?”
“Actually, I could use some fresh air,” Cait said. “It’s a little stuffy in here.”
With the number of people dancing and drinking in the confines of the renovated barn, it was a bit close. It was unseasonably warm for February. In fact, he’d heard his mum and aunt Jeanne Marie say it was as if spring had graced them with an early visit, which was undoubtedly fortuitous for the four couples who had said their vows.
“That sounds like a great idea,” he said. “Wait right here. I’ll get us some refreshments to go.”
He tipped the bartender fifty dollars and was rewarded with a chilled, unopened bottle of champagne and two flutes. On his way back to Cait, he plucked a long-stemmed red rose out of one of the many free-standing floral arrangements.
He took the bounty back to where he’d left her, but she wasn’t there. As he made a three-hundred-sixty-degree turn, it dawned on him that it probably hadn’t been a brilliant move to leave her alone. He hadn’t been gone that long, but if she really had wanted to leave, this would’ve presented the perfect opportunity for her to make her getaway. His gut tightened at the thought, but then he sobered. Really, if she had decided to go, it was for the best. He was set to return to London in two days. True, Cait of the magical lips had an unnerving ability to knock him void of all common sense, but really, what would they do two days from now when he boarded the plane to go home? The likelihood of him traveling to Chicago anytime soon was slim. Business was booming at his company, Hayes Consulting, the management consulting firm for which he’d sacrificed everything. It had been a struggle even to find time to come for the wedding. If truth be told, he wasn’t happy about taking time off for four cousins he barely knew. It had only been a couple of years since his mother had discovered that she was adopted and had three siblings who had so many grown children that it seemed to be necessary to marry them off in bulk. Still, it had been important to his mother that he attend this affair. She was the one woman in the world for whom he’d drop everything. Plus, it was a chance to catch up with his brother Oliver.
All the negativity drained away when he turned and saw Cait with her wrap and handbag, making her way toward him in the crowd. She was still here, and suddenly nothing else mattered.
He handed her the rose.
“This is beautiful,” she said, bringing the flower to her nose. “How romantic, sir.”
Her eyes glinted and at that moment, Brodie was sure she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever had the privilege to set eyes on.
“And what else do you have there?”
“A spot of champagne. What do you say we get out of here? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
He started to offer her his arm, but his hands were full with the two glasses and the bottle.
“I’m intrigued.” She laughed. “May I carry something?”
“I’ve got this.” He set down the bottle and tucked each of the champagne flutes into his suit coat pockets.
“Let’s try that again.” He offered her his arm.
She accepted, and he led her out of the noisy reception.
Once they were outside, it was quiet, except for the faint sound of the party going on in the barn behind them. A few people milled about. A line of golf carts, which were there to drive the guests back to their vehicles after the festivities ended, waited at the ready several feet in front of the barn. The cart attendants sat at tables, playing cards as they waited.
Brodie and Caitlyn walked from the barn toward the pond on the east side of the property. The night was unseasonably warm for February, but despite the midfifty-degree temperatures, he thought he felt Cait shiver. She’d put her coat on over that fabulous red dress.
Still, priding himself on being a gentleman, he said, “Is it too cold out here? We can go back inside...or I’m happy to give you my jacket. You could drape it about your shoulders.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but no. Actually, the cool air feels great after being inside. With everyone dancing and all that romantic energy in there, it was a little bit warm. Besides, I wouldn’t want to take a chance on breaking one of those glasses that you worked so hard to steal for us.”
“I didn’t steal them. The bartender graciously gifted them to us. He thought we looked like such a lovely couple.”
“Oh, really?”
“That’s what he said.” Brodie winked and took a great deal of pleasure watching the color spike in her ivory cheeks.
“So you’re an honest guy?” she said. “Does that mean I can trust you to lead me out into the darkness? You’re not some deranged serial killer, are you?”
Brodie stopped, unsure for a moment if she was serious. “Well...no. Of course not.”
But really, could he blame her? They didn’t know each other.
She assessed him for what felt like an eternity.
“Where are we going?” she asked. “What is it that you wanted to show me?”
“There’s a meteor shower tonight. Out here, away from the city lights, the waning crescent moon coupled with the clear sky provides excellent viewing conditions.”
Her brows knit together, and she cocked her head to the side as if she didn’t understand.
“A meteor shower,” he repeated. “You know, shooting stars? I thought it would be...romantic.” He rocked back on his heels.
“I know what a meteor shower is.” She smiled. “What I didn’t realize was that you’re an astronomy nerd.”
The light from the tiki torches that lined the path caught the teasing sparkle in her green eyes, turning them an alluring shade of jade, and it took everything Brodie had to keep from leaning in and kissing her again.
“I’ve been accused of being a lot of things in my life, but I must say tonight is the first time anyone has called me a nerd...or a serial killer. However, if you like nerds, that’s exactly what I’ll be tonight. Just for you.”
“Just for me? What about serial killer?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Sorry, that’s not in my repertoire.”
“Good to know,” she said. “Call me crazy, but for some reason, I believe you.”
Suddenly, she looked away and pointed toward the sky. “I think I just saw one. Was that a meteor?”
“Indeed.”
“What are we waiting for?” she said. “Let’s go where we can see better.”
She grabbed his hand, and he led her toward the open field by the pond.
When they stopped, they turned their attention up to the sky.
“This is a rather slow shower,” he said. “There may only be four or five meteors per hour.”
“What should we do to entertain ourselves in the meantime?” Her voice was low and raspy. There was something in her tone that made him want to suggest all kinds of inappropriate things. She seemed to read his thoughts because she reached out and ran her thumb over his bottom lip. He was still holding the champagne bottle and the glasses when she leaned in and brushed a kiss over his lips.
“If you want to do something like this,” she said, “I wouldn’t object.”
Before he could stop himself, he caught her bottom lip between his teeth and teased it with his tongue.
“How about something like that?” he asked, his mouth a breath away from hers.
“That? Oh, yes, definitely that. And more, I hope. But first I’ll need a glass of champagne.”
He spread his jacket on the ground, and they sat down on it. He popped the cork and poured them each a glass of bubbly. They clinked glasses and settled into the silence of the first sip. He reached out and brushed a strand of long, dark hair off her shoulder.
She inhaled a quick breath and seemed suddenly shy. Even though he was dying to kiss her again...and again and again, he knew he’d be smart to slow things down until he was sure she was comfortable.
He gazed up at the sky for a moment, searching, until he found what he was looking for.
“See those three stars in a row that are close together?”
He leaned in so that she could follow where he was pointing.
She didn’t pull away.
“That’s Orion’s belt. Do you know the legend of Orion and Merope?”
She shook her head.
“Orion, the great hunter, fell in love with Merope. He made a business deal with her father. In exchange for clearing the land of all the savage beasts, Orion would have Merope’s hand in marriage, but Merope’s dad reneged and wouldn’t let Orion marry his daughter.”
“Poor Orion,” she said.
“Yes, the poor guy was stricken with such sadness. He couldn’t get the girl off his mind. He wasn’t watching where he was going and stepped on a scorpion and died.”
She slanted him a dubious glance. “It that really how the story goes? I thought there was more to it.”
“I thought you didn’t know the story,” he said.
“I wanted to hear your version,” she said, leaning into him. “I was hoping you’d make it a love story.”
“Oh, it is.” He clamped his mouth shut before he could add something stupid like this is a real-life love story, sweetheart. Love hurts.
Instead, he continued. “The gods took pity, and they immortalized him and his dogs up in the sky as constellations.”
He outlined the stars with his finger.
“They put all of the animals he hunted up there near him—like the rabbit and the bull. But they put the scorpion all the way on the opposite side of the sky so Orion would never be hurt again.”
“What about Merope? What happened to her?”
“She’s still there. She’s a star that rides the shoulders of the bull. So he can always see her.”
“You have a romantic heart,” she said.
“Funny, others have claimed I don’t have a heart.”
“Well, they were mistaken, my romantic astronomy nerd.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelled so good he breathed in trying to identify the fragrance...it was something floral...and sweet. The combination was intoxicating. He thought he could live happily here. Just the two of them sitting close, sipping champagne under the inky starlit sky.
He slid his arm around her shoulder, ran his hand down the length of her arm. She tilted her head up and leaned in closer, tempting him. His lips found hers, and this time the kiss wasn’t quite so gentle. She responded, her body pressing against his. The way they fit together might have brought to mind tired clichés like puzzle pieces or bugs in a rug, but he was too caught up in her to give it much thought.
All he could focus on was the feel of her...the taste of her...the all-consuming thought of what it would be like to make love to her...their bodies even closer than they were right now. Him buried deep inside her. Them moving to their own private rhythm.
He heard a sound—a low, guttural rumble—and realized he was the one making the noise. As if the force was driving him, he deepened the kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted like the champagne they’d shared. But there was something else...something uniquely her. And it was threatening to drive him crazy.
His hands slid from her hair down her shoulders, and he closed his arms around her, pulling her closer. He memorized the feel of her as he lowered her back, onto the ground.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a brief moment of clarity. He would never force her to do anything that made her uncomfortable. “Is this...okay?”
“I’ve never been better.” She smiled up at him. “I have a feeling I’m going to be even better very soon. So please don’t stop now.”
He held her gaze for a moment, until little pinpricks of longing injected him with a need so powerful it had him seeing stars. When he reclaimed her lips, it lifted him off the ground and into the heavens of lusty bliss. When was the last time he’d wanted a woman so badly that it bordered on greed?
On need...
He unbuttoned her coat and slipped his hands inside, savoring every inch of her—her tiny waist, her sexy hips. That red dress was all that stood between him and that glorious body. He slid his hands back up her torso, around her rib cage and paused underneath her breasts, giving her one more chance to slow things down, if she wanted.
God, he hoped she wouldn’t.
When she deepened the kiss and pulled him closer, stretching one long leg out, crossing it over his, he knew she wasn’t going anywhere without him tonight.
That’s when what little control he had left shattered.
He eased her down onto his jacket, taking care that his touch wasn’t as rough and desperate as he felt. When he covered her with his body, the only thing he was aware of was how her lips and tongue were doing amazing things to his mouth. When his hand slipped under the neckline of her dress and his fingers found their way to her breast beneath her bra, she moaned, a muffled sound under his lips.
“You okay?” he said, resting his forehead on hers. “If you want, we can stop.”
* * *
She appreciated his concern. He was a gentleman, but she didn’t want to talk.
She didn’t want to stop, and she didn’t want to talk about it.
Because if they started talking, she might try to explain herself.
She was so tired of explaining herself.
It was her body. Her choice to have him... Just because she chose to make love to a virtual stranger, it didn’t make her any less of a human being. Men did it all the time...had one-night stands...even when they were engaged...with the church booked and the catering ordered...the white dress hanging in the bride-to-be’s closet and the wedding two weeks away.
But she wasn’t going to think about men like that tonight. She was going to prove to herself exactly how liberated she was. She was going to take back her power by enjoying this fine, hot guy. Her wedding favor. Actually, he was more like a gift...but not a wedding gift. She’d sent all those back after she’d thrown the ring in Eric’s face.
She needed to stop thinking about Eric. He’d already ruined her life once.
There was no room for him—especially not tonight.
To drown out the incessant chatter in her head, Caitlyn deepened their kiss. Brodie groaned and nudged her thighs apart with his knee, nesting his lower body into hers. When she felt his arousal, thick and hard against her, she grabbed his backside and pulled him even closer, just to make sure there was no doubt about exactly how okay she was with their closeness.
His murmured answer was muddled and unintelligible against her lips; he seemed to understand. His intention was clear in the way he smoothed his hand up her bare leg. When his fingers reached her upper thigh and he deftly eased her out of her panties, his actions told her everything she needed to know.
When they were naked and ready, she held on tight as he unleashed himself up on her body.
Later, when they lay spent and sated in each other’s arms, she wasn’t sure if hours or days had passed. It was as if they’d been lifted out of space and time into a world where only the two of them existed.
But no... It couldn’t have been days because it was still dark outside, and she had to go home before the sun came up. She was staying with her parents while she was here. They’d send out the National Guard if she didn’t come home. She snuggled into the warmth of him for one more luxurious moment, breathing in the scent of him...of them...before she gently wriggled out from under his protective arm.
He stirred. “Where are you going?”
“I have to go home.”
“Chicago? Tonight? Don’t do that. Stay with me. Some of the best meteors happen just before dawn.”
It was already late, but she could see her mother’s face if she came in doing the walk of shame, with the sun on her back. Caitlyn may have been twenty-nine years old and living on her own since she’d gone off to college, but when she came home to visit the folks, she was twelve years old again.
“No, I’m sorry. I really do have to go.”
As she straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair into place, she watched Brodie lying there, propped up on one elbow, watching her. He really was a beautiful man. That face...and that body. Oh, what he could do with that body. It was one of the best experiences she’d ever had. Not that she’d had that many. She’d certainly never done this before. Brodie the Brit had been nothing short of amazing. It was a shame that she’d never see him again. What had started out to be an evening of obligation had turned into a night she would never forget.
Never forget and definitely not regret.
“Will you walk me to my car?” she asked.
“Of course.” Once he’d righted himself and brushed off the dirt from his jacket, they were walking arm in arm back to the parking lot.
“I’m sorry about your coat,” she said.
“Don’t give it a second thought. In fact, I might just have it framed and hang it on my wall to remember tonight.”
The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees, and by the time they made it back around to the lot, most of the cars were gone. The courtesy golf carts and their drivers were nowhere to be found. It was that late.
As she fumbled in her purse for her keys, she checked her phone for the time.
Three forty-five in the morning.
Irrational panic ceased her. She should’ve been home hours ago.
She didn’t want to ruin everything with awkward goodbyes, but she had to get out of there.
“Brodie the Brit,” she said. They were standing maybe five inches apart. “This has been such a wonderful evening. Look, if you’re ever in Chicago...”
She realized how that sounded, a shot of needy with a chaser of desperate.
“Goodbye, Brodie.”
She kissed him one last time before she drove off.
When she did, she forced herself to not watch his fading image in her rearview mirror. Or to think about how tonight was not only her first one-night stand, it was also probably the best sex she’d ever had in her life.
The faster she drove, the louder doubt rattled behind her like a string of tin cans tied to a wedding car.
She was never going to see him again. She didn’t even know his last name.
It was best that way.
Wasn’t it?
