A Fortune's Children's Christmas (6 page)

“W
e’re home.” The words sounded hollow as Lesley, carrying Angela in her infant seat, stepped into her empty house. As if sensing a change she didn’t much like, the baby squirmed and let out an irritated cry. “Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

But the old farmhouse felt like a tomb. It was warm enough, the lights bright, but it seemed vacant inside, without that special glow that makes a house a home.

Stop it, Lesley. You’re imagining things. Fool that you are, you just don’t want to leave Chase Fortune, that’s all. Get over it.
Setting her jaw, she walked across the kitchen and tried to ignore the fact that she experienced no sense of homecoming, no relief at being home again.

Chase carrying groceries and Rambo were right behind her. “Stay,” Chase commanded the old hound as he was bounding through the door.

“No, it’s all right. He can come in.” Lesley had become fond of the dog and didn’t want him left freezing on the back porch.

“He’s wet.”

“Aren’t we all?” she asked, lifting her eyebrows as she stared pointedly at the snow melting on the shoulders of Chase’s jacket.

Rambo, as if understanding that he was the center of the conversation, cocked his head, then, tail tucked between his legs, slunk into the house and took up residence under the table.

Chase muttered something under his breath about “spoiled mutts who don’t know their place,” as he set a sack of groceries they’d picked up at the local market on the table by the window. He shifted Lesley’s suitcase from one hand to the other. “Where do you want your bag?”

“Just leave it anywhere. I’ll take it upstairs later.”

“I’ll do the honors.” He didn’t say anything else, but she knew he was thinking of her ankle, and it touched her in a way that surprised her. For a rawhide-tough cowboy with a stubborn streak that would give any mule a run for his money, Chase had a kinder side, as well, one she only caught glimpses of.

She tucked Angela’s blanket more tightly around her and set the carrier on the counter where the baby could watch Lesley as she turned on the coffeemaker and put away the groceries.

The coffee was just beginning to drizzle through the machine when Rambo let out a low woof.

Chase’s boots rang on the hallway upstairs.

A truck’s engine roared down the drive. Lesley peered out the window and recognized Ray Mellon’s Dodge plowing down the lane. Snow was piled on the roof of the cab and inside the bed of the truck.

“We’ve got company,” Lesley said, winking at her baby. Aside from Chase, Ray was the first neighbor she’d seen since Angela’s birth. “You’d better be on
your best behavior,” she whispered to the baby as Ray cut the engine and hopped down from the pickup. Wearing a parka, wool cap and insulated pants, he hiked through the snow and stepped onto the back porch. He brushed the snow from his clothes and started to knock, but Lesley threw open the door.

“Lesley, gal!” A wide grin split his face.

“I wondered if you’d made it back from sun country.”

“Just yesterday. The airports were a mess, let me tell you.” He stepped into the kitchen and shook his head. “Look at you!” Giving in to impulse, he grabbed her around the waist, picked her up and twirled her off her feet. “My God, girl, I was worried sick about you and don’t tell me, this—” he cocked his head to the counter where Angela, peering through wide eyes, was focusing on the ceiling “—must be your new little girl.”

“Meet Angela,” Lesley said as he set her on her feet. Her heart was racing, and she felt her cheeks flush.

“She’s gorgeous. The spittin’ image of her mother.”

Laughing, Lesley caught a movement from the corner of her eye and spied Chase, his expression guarded, standing in the archway between the kitchen and dining room. “Chase, meet Ray. Ray Mellon, remember, I told you about him? He’s back from Phoenix. Ray, this is Chase Fortune, my new neighbor and the man who probably saved my life and Angela’s.”

Chase extended his hand, and Ray, after yanking
off one of his gloves, grasped Chase’s palm firmly. “Glad to meet you,” Ray said. “You’re related to Kate?”

“Her great-nephew.” Chase sized the guy up as he dropped his hand. About five feet ten inches of wiry muscle, with brown hair beginning to turn silver at the temples and eyes that didn’t linger on any spot too long.

“So you’re ranchin’ the old Waterman place?”

“Trying.”

Ray sucked in his breath and shook his head. “Good luck. I don’t know what there is about that place, but it seems to be a son of a bi—” he glanced at Lesley and caught himself “—a lot of trouble to keep afloat. Anyway, I want to thank you for showin’ up and takin’ care of Lesley and her little one.” He wrapped a friendly arm around Lesley’s waist. “She’s special, this one.”

“Ray!” Lesley shifted out of his embrace.

“Well, you are.” He winked broadly at Chase. “I always said that when Aaron got tired of her, I’d take her anyday.”

“Did you?” Chase said, his back muscles coiling. He didn’t like the guy for a minute.

“I think I would have a little say in that,” Lesley protested, and then, as if to change the subject, added, “The coffee’s almost done. Would you like a cup?”

“Nah, I can’t stay. Just thought I’d see if you were home so I could take a gander at the little one.” He touched a finger to Angela’s cheek, and Chase had to physically restrain himself. “She’s a beaut, that she
is. As I said, just like her ma.” He rained a too-friendly smile in Lesley’s direction, and for a second Chase thought he was actually going to plant a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll give you a call later. Let me know if there’s anything, and I mean it,
any
thing you need.” Chuckling, Ray let himself out the back door.

Lesley, blushing a deep scarlet, let out her breath. “Wow.”

Chase managed a calm expression, though his teeth were clenched so tightly his jaw ached. As far as he was concerned Ray Mellon, friend or not, was full of hot air and not much else.

Pouring two cups of coffee, Lesley half apologized. “Ray’s well-meaning, believe me. A heart of gold, even though he comes on a little strong.”

The understatement of the year in Chase’s estimation, but he tried to convince himself that it didn’t matter. Ray Mellon could dance stark naked on the top of the barn for all Chase cared. So the guy was Lesley’s friend? So what? She was entitled. He took a couple of swigs of coffee, decided it was time to take off, then set his cup on the counter. “I’ll check on your horses before I leave.”

“You don’t have to go out and—”

“I want to. Okay?”

She didn’t argue. “I…I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She bit her lip, then, as if on a whim, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him full on the lips. Warm, feather soft and filled with gratitude, the kiss struck a chord in Chase he’d thought was long dead. “Thank you,
Chase Fortune,” she said huskily as she turned away and picked up her daughter. Her green eyes seemed to shine a little brighter this morning, as if she were fighting tears. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that you saved my life and Angela’s.”

“It wasn’t that big a—”

“It was.” She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed. “It was a very big deal. I doubt if I’ll ever be able to repay you, and that bothers me. It bothers me a lot.” She swallowed hard, and her gaze locked with his. For a second he was lost in the wonder of this bit of a woman with, it seemed, a heart as big as the state of Montana. She bit the corner of her lip in a nervous gesture he found fascinating, and it was all he could do to step away. He had the overpowering urge to sweep her off her feet, kiss her until they were both weak with desire, then carry her up the stairs to her bedroom and make love until they couldn’t move a muscle.

As if she understood his thoughts, she blushed, and he gave himself a hard mental shake. He was walking on thin ice here. Thin and damned dangerous. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’m just glad it all worked out.”

“Me, too.” Her eyes held his for a second longer, and his gut grew taut. Hell, she was beautiful.

And off-limits. Way off. As were all women.

“I’ll see you later.” He whistled to Rambo and opened the door. A gust of cold air shot through the house as the dog scrambled to his feet and dashed outside. With one final look at Lesley cradling her
baby close, Chase shut the door firmly behind him. It was a simple gesture and yet it took all his grit and determination to walk off the porch and leave mother and daughter to fend for themselves. He reminded himself that Lesley Bastian wasn’t his. Not his wife nor his mistress nor even his damned girlfriend. She was only his neighbor, a woman who’d gotten herself into a little trouble that he’d helped ease. Nothing more. That’s the way it was and, curse it to hell, that’s the way it had to be.

But he found his cabin empty when he returned home. Empty and cold, though a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. He spied the sprig of holly in the tiny pitcher she’d used as a vase, and he picked it up, twirling it between his callused fingers. The cabin smelled of whatever perfume she used, soap and baby powder, and his bed, crisply made, the sheets clean, looked sterile and frigid.

She and that kid of hers had been in his life little more than a week, and he missed them. More than he’d ever thought possible. His thoughts took a dark turn to Emily and Ryan, but he found them farther from him than they had been; the pain had dulled with time, and, he suspected, Lesley.

He did his chores by rote, called Kate and reported in, ate sparingly and, much later, when the moon was high, he showered and told himself he wouldn’t call Lesley, didn’t need to know how she was doing; yet he stared out the window to the darkness beyond. Moonlight cast a silver glow on the snow that blan
keted the ground and clung to the branches of the trees. Far in the distance golden patches of warm light shone through the narrow windows of the old farmhouse where he’d grown up, the farmhouse Lesley and Angela now occupied. In his mind’s eye he saw her stand on her tiptoes, tilt her head and, with her eyes wide open, kiss him as she had this afternoon. He’d thought of little else since then.

Loneliness, an emotion he’d forced himself to keep under tight rein, pierced deep into his soul. He’d lost everyone close to him one way or another. His twin, Chet, a reckless youth, had made the mistake of driving the old tractor up a ridge a little too fast. The front wheels had hit a rock and bounced, flipping the rig over and pinning Chet beneath it.

Chase had seen it all, had run to the top of the hill crying and screaming, knowing that his brother was already dead. Chet’s lifeless body had been in his nightmares ever since, and the tragedy had torn the family apart. His father gave up whatever ambition he’d once claimed, his mother had gotten sick and died of cancer, a disease unrelated to her son’s death, or so they were told. Chase had never believed it: Constance Fortune’s will to live, to fight, had been robbed of her when her boy died. That left Delia, always self-absorbed, to turn inward. Delia went through life these days unconnected to her family.

And what about you?

He didn’t want to look too closely into the mirror of his own soul, didn’t need to face his inner demons. He didn’t believe in dwelling on pain, nor discussing
it with any Tom, Dick or Harry. Nor would he talk to a psychiatrist or counselor of any sort. Nope. He believed in healing himself, and the best way he could cope with all the pain of the past was to ignore it, to bury himself in his work, to find another purpose in his life.

He’d tried marriage and it had only added to his pain. He gritted his teeth as he thought of Emily. Sweet, sad Emily. And Ryan. His only son. A boy who hadn’t lived long enough to see his first birthday.

The old ache burned through him.

Angry at the turn of his thoughts, he shoved another length of oak into the fire and sat at the kitchen table where he’d been going over the books. He punched figures into a calculator and scratched notes to himself as he pored over the accounting records and tax returns for the previous decade.

The Waterman place had been going downhill for years, it seemed, but Chase discovered ways to cut corners, to sell at higher prices, to reduce his overhead while upping his production of grain and cattle. It looked possible to make good on his bargain with Kate, even though a year was a short turn-around time. He spent hours huddled over the books until, sometime after one o’clock, Rambo whined to go outside.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Chase opened the door. Rambo wandered across the snow-covered backyard, disappeared around the corner, then in less than a minute reappeared, nose to the ground, as if he could scare up a rabbit or pheasant at this late hour. “Give it up, boy,” Chase advised. Cold air slapped his face
and ripped through his sweatshirt, but it helped clear his head of the numbers he’d been crunching.

With a disappointed snort, Rambo scrambled into the warmth of the house again. Chase shut the door and walked to the table. Despite all his efforts to find an answer, there was one dilemma that wasn’t about to go away—no matter how he tackled it. Walking to the table, he looked over his projected profit-and-loss statement for the dozenth time. It just wasn’t possible. “Hell.” He wadded up the paper in frustration, because no matter how he adjusted the figures, when it came to productivity, he had a problem. A serious one. If he really wanted to ensure that the ranch would become profitable in the next year, that he would be able to fulfill his part of the deal with Kate and end up owning these barren acres, he couldn’t sell water rights to anyone. Including Lesley Bastian.

“I
don’t get it. I just don’t get it.” Jeff Nelson leaned back in his chair and tossed his hair from his eyes. At seventeen he was more interested in girls and basketball than algebra.

“You’re doing fine. Just keep working at it,” Lesley said as she corrected his homework. Jeff was one of seven students she tutored in high-school-level math. It brought in a little extra money, and she wouldn’t have to think about a second job. She could stay at home with Angela.

“Algebra’s impossible.” He scooped up his book and stretched as he got out of his chair. At six foot four, he was still growing.

“Don’t get discouraged.”

He snorted. “I’m
way
past discouraged,” he said, then flashed her his killer smile. As they walked out of the den, Lesley peeked in on Angela, who was sleeping soundly, her thumb tucked between her tiny lips.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” Lesley said once they were down in the kitchen, and she marked her calendar, noticing that today was Valentine’s Day. Her first Valentine’s Day alone in a long time. Not that it mattered, she supposed. As Jeff ambled out the back
door she remembered last Valentine’s Day and the single rose Aaron had bought from a roadside vendor. She’d been touched, until she’d found his credit card bills a month after he’d died and seen a bill for an expensive bouquet that went through on the fourteenth of February.

“Live and learn,” she told herself as she wiped some crumbs from the table and wondered what Chase was doing. She’d seen more of him than she’d expected in the past month. He seemed to feel that she was somehow his responsibility, which was ridiculous.

But, if she was honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she didn’t mind the attention. Not one little bit. Just as long as he didn’t push her around too much.

He made sure her livestock was cared for, that her Jeep, after it had been pulled from the ditch and repaired, was safe, and that she made it to her doctor’s appointments on time.

However, he kept his distance and didn’t get closer to her, avoided touching her, and he smiled rarely. He’d come in for coffee a couple of times, but whenever she’d asked him to come to dinner or join her for an outing, he had quickly declined.

“Oh, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she told herself as she picked up the receiver and dialed his number. The phone rang eight times and no one answered, which wasn’t much of a surprise as the man was out of the house more than he was inside and he had some antiquated aversion to answering machines.
“Get into the nineties, Fortune, before they’re gone!” she reprimanded as if he could hear her, then hung up. She could just give up, she supposed, but that wasn’t her nature.

Angela started making noises upstairs, and Lesley decided it was time for some exercise. She raced up the stairs and found her daughter lying on her back in her crib, small arms flailing, face beginning to turn red as she started to cry. “No reason to fuss,” Lesley said, feeling her breasts let-down and milk begin to flow. “I’m right here.”

After feeding, changing and dressing the baby in a snug snowsuit, Lesley strapped Angela into her front pack and, with a card she’d picked up at the store—one with a funny message rather than the kind with a hearts and flowers message of undying love—she hiked the distance between the two ranches. It was cold as the dickens outside; the wind blew hard and snow still covered the ground; but the pale winter sun lingered in the Montana-blue sky and Lesley felt lighthearted as she walked up Chase’s lane.

She hadn’t been back to the small cabin since her short, emotional stay with him over the Christmas holidays, and she felt ridiculously as if she were coming home. “Idiot,” she muttered under her breath, and sensed Angela stirring against her. “You know, don’t you, that your mother’s a bona fide fool?”

Rambo, lying on the front porch, barked a greeting and stood slowly, his tail whipping behind him. “I missed you, too, boy,” she said as the front door opened and Chase in jeans and a flannel shirt stood
behind the torn mesh of the screen door. He didn’t smile, and she had the uneasy sensation that she was interrupting him.

Suddenly she was tongue-tied. “Hi,” she managed, wishing she hadn’t been so darned impulsive. What was she doing here? What possible excuse could she come up with? None. She had to go through with her plan.

“Come in.” He held the door for her. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Uh, I just wanted some exercise.” Good Lord, she sounded like a moron. “I came over here because…because it’s Valentine’s Day and I bought a card for you and…I’m rambling aren’t I?” She unstrapped the baby, and Chase took her pack in his big hands. As she unzipped her jacket, he retrieved Angela from the pack. “I sound like a complete and utter ninny.”

“Not at all.” But he couldn’t quite swallow his sudden smile, and his eyes, a second before so serious, lit with amusement. “She’s growing,” he observed as if to change the awkward conversation.

“All the time.”

His expression was gentle as he looked at the baby. “Don’t you think it’s too cold to take her outside?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t have taken the risk,” she replied. Chase’s concern for Angela touched her even if he was a little pushy about it.

“They’re fragile.”

“Of course they are. Believe me, I’m careful with her.”

He nodded curtly. “I know you are.” She sensed he wanted to say something else, but bit his tongue.

While he was paying attention to Angela, Lesley left the card on the table where she and he had shared so many meals. The drop leaf was covered with receipts, a general ledger book and calculator. “I thought I could repay you a little for all you’ve done for me,” she said. “I was hoping you might come to dinner.”

His head snapped up. “Tonight?”

“If it’s not a problem.”

He hesitated, and Lesley’s heart plummeted as she realized he was trying to come up with an excuse,
any
excuse to decline. Oh, this was a stupid, impetuous idea. She should have asked him over any other night, but not tonight. Not on the night that was set aside each year for lovers.

The phone rang before the silence had become too awkward, and balancing the baby, he plucked the receiver from its cradle and barked a cold, “Hello.” He managed a brief, soulless smile at Lesley while still holding Angela. “Oh, hi.” His shoulders relaxed. “Pretty good. Just tryin’ to turn this place around. Nothin’ much to report.” He laughed then, and the sound was rich and deep, reminding Lesley of the few times he’d relaxed during their week together. “Yeah, same to you. Happy Valentine’s Day. Don’t worry. I’m fine, Kate…Lesley? She’s here right now.” He looked at her, and their gazes locked. “The baby’s doing great. Thanks, I will.” He hung up and walked to the woodstove where an enamel pot was sitting.
“That was my great-aunt Kate,” he said, pouring two cups of coffee. “Checking up on me, her investment and you.”

Still holding Angela in one arm, he handed one of the full cups to Lesley.

“I’ve never met her. Why would she even ask about me?”

“Maybe she’s just nosy.” Chuckling, he picked up his cup and thought for a minute. “I’m just kidding. She’s interested in everything that goes on here, and I told her about you and the baby.” He frowned a little, as if that particular thought bothered him, and Lesley took a long sip from her cup. The house was about the same as when she’d left, except that over the mantel there was a picture of a pretty blond woman holding a baby. As if drawn to the photo, Lesley walked to the fireplace. “Who’s this?” she asked. The woman’s hair was blowing in her face as she sat on a boulder, but she was smiling brightly and squinting into the sun.

He hesitated. “That was Emily. My wife.”

The words settled like doom in the cabin. “Your wife?” she said weakly, then gave herself a swift mental kick. Of course he’d been with other women. Why would it surprise her that he’d been married?

“She’s holding my son.”

“I, um, I didn’t know that—”

“They’re both gone now,” he said, as if he needed to clear the air. “They died a few years back.”

Her heart was suddenly heavy. Tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Chase, I’m so sorry,” she said, turning
and seeing a glimpse of his anguish, a flash of tragic sorrow in his eyes, before his jaw was set again and that rigid wall of disinterest was firmly back in place.

“I am, too,” he admitted, his voice thicker than usual.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“No reason to dwell on it,” he said, and before she could ask what happened, she realized the subject was closed and the cabin seemed colder somehow.

“I didn’t even know you’d been married.”

“As I said, I don’t think about it. It’s the past. Over and done.”

“But it still hurts,” she said automatically, then wished she’d held her tongue as his expression shifted and he was once again the taciturn, unapproachable cowboy she’d first met weeks ago.

“Oh. Well.” She took a long sip from her cup and made excuses to leave. If Chase wanted to shut her out, to pretend that the pain of his past didn’t exist, so be it. For the first time since the days right after Angela’s birth she felt out of place in the cabin that had once seemed so cozy.

“What time’s dinner?” he asked, as she slid her arms through her jacket. So he was planning to come. She was surprised, but tried not to show it.

“Whatever works for you. Seven?”

“Fine. I’ll be there. You want a lift home?”

She shook her head and yanked on her gloves. “The whole point of coming over here was to stretch some seldom-used muscles. I’ll see you later.” She placed Angela inside her front pack and felt a ridic
ulous bit of lightheartedness as she made her way back to her place.

It was silly, really. Chase was her neighbor, a man who had helped her during a difficult time in her life. Nothing more. That’s the way he wanted it and the way she wanted it. But she hummed to herself as she cooked, and she paid special attention to cleaning the house.

“Grow up,” she told herself angrily, but the smile that toyed at the corners of her mouth wouldn’t disappear.

Chase kicked himself up one side and down the other as he drove the short distance to Lesley’s house. What was he doing accepting her invitation to dinner, feeling tense and excited and suddenly concerned about how close he’d shaved? He couldn’t get involved with her. Wouldn’t.

And yet he couldn’t stop himself. He’d jumped at the chance to be alone with her and Angela again, read the funny card she’d left for him half a dozen times. He felt foolish arriving with a bottle of wine, like a schoolboy with a corsage for his prom date, but he hauled it with him nonetheless.

She greeted him at the door, and he was stunned. He’d never seen her dressed up before. In a black skirt, white silk blouse and some kind of suede vest, she was more than striking. Her hair was pinned back, a touch of lipstick glistening on her lips, and a smile as warm as South Florida causing a dimple to crease
one cheek. “I thought you might back out,” she teased.

“Why would I do that?” He handed her the bottle of wine and she lifted an already-arched brow.

“Just a feeling I got. That you’d rather avoid me.”

He walked into her house and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Sometimes I think it would be wiser.”

“Why’s that?”

“It keeps life less complicated.”

“And that’s what you want? No complications?”

“Let’s just say I’ve had more than my share.”

Her smile faded slightly. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Chase. We all have. Come inside and take a load off. I’ll try to keep things uncomplicated for you.” He knew she was needling him, but he let it pass as he walked into the kitchen where he’d grown up. The house smelled of baked ham, scalloped potatoes and lemon in the form of a meringue pie that she cut after he’d devoured two helpings of the main course. True to her word, she kept the conversation light, and if she flirted with him at all, it was at a shallow level that didn’t delve too deep. Several times he thought about bringing up the problem with granting her water rights, but the perfect moment never seemed to arise, and he didn’t want to spoil the mood of comradery they’d found.

He even let a few of his old barriers break down and couldn’t resist the baby. She’d grown over the past month and a half, her eyes more focused, her tiny body filling out. Chase and Lesley played with Angela
until she nodded off, and then they were completely alone.

That’s when the trouble began.

He knew he should leave, that being with her any longer was begging for a kind of trouble he didn’t want, but as they sat on the couch in the living room, the panes of the windows misting, candles flickering on the mantel, he couldn’t find the words to say goodbye.

She was tense beside him, her leg close to his, her shoulder brushing his own. The room was too intimate, way too close. He yanked at the neck of his sweater. Couldn’t breathe.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

“I’m glad you invited me.” Oh, hell, he sounded so stiff and formal.

“I wish, I mean, I’d like—” She turned and stared deep into his eyes. “I don’t want you,” she said. “I…I don’t want this, but—”

So there it was.

“But—I do.”

His mouth was dry as he stared into eyes that glimmered like a forest in the rain. “I know.”

She licked her lips, and he was undone.

His groin throbbed. His heart raced, and he saw her pupils widen as he slowly lowered his head. “This is a mistake,” he whispered.

“A big one.” An enticing flush crept up her neck, and he couldn’t resist the temptation to wrap his arms around her and kiss her. Her lips parted willingly, her
body molded to his, and if he felt any bit of resistance in her it quickly disappeared.

Don’t do this, Fortune. Stop now, while you still can,
a nagging voice inside his head insisted. But the kiss deepened and she let out a soft moan. His tongue slipped between her lips, his pulse raced and fire danced through his blood. One of his hands tangled in her hair, and her head lolled backward, exposing more of her throat. Deep inside, he began to burn, the heat between his legs becoming an ache. He slipped her vest off her shoulders and parted her blouse with fingers that felt clumsy with the small buttons.