Fortune's Legacy

“Something else?” he asked, pitching his voice to be heard above the music.

She looked as though she wanted to say something, then thought better of it. “No. I mean… No.”

“Okay.” He glanced at his watch, more for effect than anything else. “I’ve got an appointment so—”

“Oh.” A flash of something that might have been disappointment streaked across her features and was gone again in an instant. Then she lifted her chin, looked him in the eye and said, “All right. Then, goodbye.”

“Yeah.” Why wasn’t he moving?

“See you at work.”

“Right.” He still didn’t budge. For God’s sake, he told himself, move.

Before he could, though, she turned and walked away, weaving through the crowd with a lazy grace that held Garrett captivated. Even after the mob of people swallowed her, he stared after her, like some lovesick schoolboy hoping for another smile from the head cheerleader.

He shook his head as if trying to shake Kyra out of his mind. But as he turned and stalked toward the front door, storming through the crowd like a man possessed, he already knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

He’d held her now.

He knew what she felt like in his arms.

And he wondered why in the hell the first woman to stir his senses in years had to be the one woman who made a habit out of making his life miserable.

It appeared that Fate really did have a sense of humor.

A twisted one.

“What the heck was that about?” Isa demanded as soon as Kyra made it back to their table.

She dropped into a chair, slapped one hand to her spinning stomach and reached for her margarita before she tried to answer her best friend. While the icy slush slid down her throat, Kyra tried to get a grip on the different feelings racing through her.

But she just couldn’t do it.

Finally, she lifted her gaze to her friend’s. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Isa shook her head. “Not buying it, girlfriend,” she said flatly. “There is something going on between you two.”

“He’s my boss.” Oh God, she’d danced with her boss. She’d gotten all hot and squishy while pressed up against Garrett Wolff. Kyra propped her elbows on the table and cupped her face in her hands. “This is so not good.”

Isabella laughed, clearly enjoying herself. “Yes it is. God, Kyra, you’ve been so tightly wrapped the last few years, you might as well have been vacuum packed. It’s more than time that you cut loose a little.”

Kyra lifted her head and glared at her friend. “Not with him.”

“That wasn’t how it looked to me.”

“Don’t you get it, Isa? The man holds my career in his tight fist. One word from him and I’m finished.”

“Looked to me like he was thinking more about starting than finishing,” Isa said.

“Yeah, but starting what? An affair?” Kyra groaned again. “God, that sounds so cheesy.”

“But interesting, right?” Isa leaned on the table, crossing her arms on the glossy surface. “I mean, there was definitely some sparkage, right?”

“Boy howdy.”

“Excellent.”

“Not excellent,” Kyra protested, though not quite as strongly as she should have.

An affair with Garrett Wolff would be disastrous—and fabulous. Terrifying—and exciting.

“It doesn’t have to be the end of the world, Kyra.”

“Yeah, but it could be,” she said, then added, “and I can’t risk it. Can’t take the chance of putting my career on the line. I can’t fail, Isa. I owe my family that.”

Isa had heard this before, so she leaned back in her chair and shook her head slowly. “You’re always thinking you owe something to somebody. So my question is, what do you owe yourself, Kyra? When do you get to do something just for you?”

Good question.

Kyra only wished she had an answer.

Ryan Fortune drew in a long, shuddering breath and wondered how much longer he’d be able to accomplish that simple task.

His body was shutting down. He felt it. The invader in his brain was winning the battle. He knew with a bone-deep certainty that there were only a handful of days left to him. If that.

Lying against a stack of plump pillows, he shifted slightly in his bed, pleased to feel muscles respond to thought. Such a simple thing, really. To stretch. To feel the play of muscle and bone.

To live.

He stared up at the ceiling and watched the dance of sunlight and shadow across the pale surface. He felt the soft breeze slipping through the partially opened window, and he could smell spring on the wind. Through the open curtains, he saw the trees outside his bedroom, budding now after a cold, hard winter.

He wished to hell he could be around to enjoy another spring. To curse another summer heat wave. Enjoy another Christmas. Hell, to do something as simple as walk the land, Lily’s hand firmly clasped in his.

Frustration bubbled inside. His whole damn life he’d been a doer. He’d never been one to sit when he could stand, walk when he could run. He liked being in the thick of things. Holding out a hand to help those behind, while always reaching forward.

He’d built a proud family. He’d increased the legacy left by his own father, and knew that his children would do the same.

And still it wasn’t enough.

He wasn’t ready to go. At sixty, he should have lots of years left. He should be able to sit on a damn rocking chair on the front porch of the Double Crown and watch his great-grandchildren playing in the sun.

Hell, only a year ago he’d had grand dreams and plans, and now…he only wished he and Lily could stop and watch a sunset together again. He wished he had the strength to run his fingers through her hair, to kiss her, to make love to her one more time.

Ryan’s eyes closed and a soft smile crossed his face as he remembered what his daddy used to say. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

“You’re right, Dad,” he whispered, as if Kingston Fortune were there in the room with him. Who knew, maybe his spirit was there, getting ready to escort Ryan’s soul on its trip to…wherever.

Funny. His mind kept drifting. Never used to be like that. Used to be able to concentrate. Focus. Now… “No more wishing,” he whispered into the silence of his room. “Instead, I’ll just remember what I’ve had.” More than most, that was for damn certain, he assured himself.