Husband--Or Enemy? Page 2

  Yet with the Fortune job, he seemed to have changed. He’d appeared to be making a real effort, and Angelica, who’d struggled single-handedly to raise him after their parents died, had started to think that maybe she hadn’t failed him after all; that maybe all he’d needed to succeed was a chance to grow up.

  Or so she’d thought, until after dinner the Sunday night before he’d died, when he’d glanced pointedly around her apartment and said disparagingly, “This place is too damn small.”

  She’d tried not to be offended. After all, her place was tiny. Of course, it was also clean and cozy, and a huge step up from the rundown trailer in which they’d grown up. “It’s not that bad,” she’d said lightly.

  Mike, who despite her protests had imbibed several beers more than was wise, had snorted. “It’s a dump, Ange. But don’t you worry. Another few months, once my ship comes in, I’ll get you something really nice. How’d you like to live in one of those big houses out at Saguaro Springs?”

  She’d stared at him, all of her big-sister alarms going off. “What are you talking about?”

  A sly, cat-who-ate-the-canary smile had flitted across his face. “Let’s just say the fat cats are about to get a little lesson in profit sharing.”

  Her dismay had to have been obvious. “What does that mean? You’re not planning on doing anything that might jeopardize your job, are you?”

  His smile had vanished. “Dammit, is my damn job all you ever worry about?”

  “Of course not. But—”

  “Just forget it, okay?” His expression had turned sulky.

  “But—”

  “I said forget it!” Lurching to his feet, he’d stomped toward the door. “I gotta go.”

  “Mike, wait—”

  He’d glanced back at her over his shoulder. “You’re such a frigging prude, Ange, you know that?” She must’ve winced at the words, because just for a moment his face had softened. “But thanks for dinner anyway.” He’d departed without another word.

  In the days that had followed, she’d replayed their conversation a number of times, doing her best to convince herself she’d overreacted and jumped to the wrong conclusion. After all, he wasn’t a kid anymore—he had to know that any mistake he made now would be taken seriously, not treated like a mere juvenile matter. Surely he wouldn’t do anything foolish.

  Yet deep down she hadn’t been one-hundred percent sure. So she’d gone out to the job, hoping to take Mike to dinner and diplomatically clarify the matter.

  She’d never gotten the chance. Instead, shortly after she’d spotted him on an upper floor and they’d exchanged a wave and a shouted hello, he’d stepped into the temporary service elevator, which seconds later had come crashing down. Dazed and horrified, she’d stood paralyzed as alarms sounded and dust swirled and men shouted, racing from all over the construction site to see what had happened.

  And then miraculously Riley had been there, shielding her from the terrible sight of the crumpled elevator cage, leading her away, cradling her against him as her disbelief gave way to grief and hysteria.

  She’d been desperate not to think about what had just happened, so every detail of those next few minutes was burned into her mind. She remembered the steely hardness of his body, a shock since he always looked so elegant in his fashionable clothes. She remembered how warm and satiny his skin had felt as she’d buried her face in the open V of his shirt. She could still feel his hands rubbing slowly up and down her back and the press of his cheek against her hair, as well as the soothing rumble of his voice. She recalled his scent, something dark and heady and masculine that had made her want to press closer, breathe deeper, stand there forever and never open her eyes.

  Ridiculous as it seemed now, she’d felt safe. As if she’d finally found the one place on earth where she belonged.

  Which just went to prove there was nothing like a tragedy to completely negate a person’s normal intelligence. Because if there was one thing she’d known since she was fourteen and had first set eyes on eighteen-year-old Riley Fortune, it was that they had nothing in common. He may have rescued her from a bunch of neighborhood toughs, dazzling her with his good looks as he leapt from his shiny sports car and stalked to her defense like a modern Sir Galahad, but even so she’d known he wasn’t for the likes of her. There had been so much distance financially, socially and emotionally between the Dodds and the Fortunes, she and Riley might as well have been from different planets.

  Nor had anything changed.

  He came from money and everything it provided: a beautiful home, plentiful food, nice clothes, an excellent education.

  She’d grown up in a rusting travel trailer parked on a vacant lot on the wrong side of town. By the age of eight she’d been adept at feeding herself and her little brother from donations from the local food bank and dressing them out of various charity bins.

  Riley’s family was powerful and well respected. His father was an influential business leader and his mother revered for her community service. His sister Isabelle’s picture was always showing up in the style sections of the Tucson and Pueblo newspapers, while his twin brother, Shane, was a doctor, for heaven’s sake.

  In stark contrast, her parents had excelled at avoiding gainful employment, at sleeping around and at getting enough from public assistance to keep them well supplied in alcohol and cigarettes. Although she’d grieved when they’d died in a car accident when she was eighteen, she’d had no illusions. No one with an ounce of sense would ever mistake them for role models.

  But even knowing all that, it hadn’t stopped her from clinging to Riley like an anchor in a storm the day of Mike’s accident. She’d depended on him. And he, known in their little corner of Arizona as one of the least dependable Fortunes, had stood by her as the paramedics, the police and the medical examiner came and went. He’d insisted on seeing her home and refused to leave her alone until one of her girlfriends arrived.

  Nor had his chivalry ended there. Over the next few days he’d helped her with everything from insurance claims to funeral arrangements, brushing off her thanks and claiming he was simply doing his job as Fortune Construction’s vice president of Finance.

  Which didn’t explain why he’d volunteered to keep her company in the limo on the day of the funeral. Or why he’d stood beside her at the cemetery and stayed close during the memorial gathering he’d arranged at the Saguaro Springs Country Club afterward. Much less why he’d seemed genuinely concerned when it all started to catch up with her.

  “Come on,” he’d said quietly, laying a warm, long-fingered hand to the small of her back as they’d stood on the clubhouse terrace, watching the sun begin its descent. “You look exhausted. Let me take you home.”

  And she had. She’d let him drive her home, she’d invited him in and she’d let him take her to bed. And as much as she’d like to pretend that he’d taken advantage of her, exploiting her at a vulnerable time, she knew she shared equally in whatever blame was to be assigned.

  She’d let herself forget that he was a Fortune and she was a Dodd. She’d been foolish enough to believe she was falling love. And she’d wanted him. As much—if not more—than he’d wanted her.

  And now there were consequences to pay.

  Choking back a little cry that was half sob and half self-deprecating chuckle, she pulled into the weedy gravel strip that comprised the parking lot for her small walk-up apartment. Bringing the car to a stop, she switched off the lights and engine, and forced herself to repeat the words that had become her mantra every since she’d found out she was pregnant.

  I can handle this. I’m young, strong and healthy. So what if I don’t have lots of money? I can support myself and my child. I don’t have to take charity. Not anymore.

  Plus, she had a plan, she reminded herself as she got out of the car and walked tiredly up the rickety stairs to her door. In three weeks time, not only should she have the last of Mike’s affairs settled, but she would have completed her semester finals at
the University of Arizona at Tucson, where she was a senior. Once she had her diploma, she would be free to go somewhere where no one knew her and carve out a new life for herself and her child.

  As for Riley…she was sure he’d get over it. Heck, once he had time to think about it and recover from the shock of not getting his way, he’d probably be relieved.

  Right. That’s why he asked you to marry him. Because he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

  Suddenly angry, she told herself fiercely not to defend him. He didn’t need it—he could clearly take care of himself.

  Despite the way her hands were shaking, she managed to get her door unlocked. She walked inside. There was a scrabble of toenails on the linoleum, and then she felt a moist, familiar pressure as Cosmo nudged her arm and pressed his nose against her palm.

  For all that she welcomed the big dog’s enthusiastic greeting, tonight it seemed to emphasize how alone she was. Out of nowhere, she felt a searing ache as she finally let herself consider what it would be like to be Riley’s wife, if only he wanted her for herself.

  The anger that had sustained her vanished. Leaning back against the door for support, she clamped her teeth down on her lower lip, overcome by an overwhelming sense of desolation.

  Yet as much as she hurt, she stubbornly refused to cry. The tears she’d shed over Riley Fortune three months ago had been enough to last a lifetime.

  Two

  “So. How are you? Really?”

  Riley nudged the refrigerator door shut with his hip and cautioned himself to be patient. After all, it wasn’t as if the question came as a surprise. He’d been expecting it in one form or another ever since Shane had shown up. While his brother had claimed he’d just happened to be driving by and had decided to drop in, Riley had known instantly this was no impromptu visit.

  And he was ready with an answer. “I’m okay.” He set a pair of long-necked beers on his gleaming black granite kitchen counter.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It helps that I’ve got the best attorney in Arizona working on my case.”

  A gleam ignited in Shane’s dark eyes at the reference to his new bride, Cynthia, only to fade as he continued to scrutinize his brother. “Right. But if you’re so okay, how come you look like hell?”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “Sorry, Ry, but it’s the truth. If I had to make a diagnosis, I’d say you hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep for a while.”

  “So?” Riley popped the caps on the beers, came around the end of the counter and handed one to his brother, who was ensconced on the long, glove-soft cream-colored leather sofa in Riley’s family room. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, bro—” he took a sip from his own bottle as he settled into a low, oversize taupe-and-burgundy brocade chair “—but there are some damn good reasons for losing sleep that don’t have a thing to do with my legal situation.”

  Shane wasn’t buying it. “Yeah? Is that why you’ve sent enough flowers to Angelica Dodd in the past week to build a float for the Rose Parade?”

  Riley frowned. “How’d you hear about that?”

  “I’m a doctor, remember? I have patients, and patients like to talk.”

  “Yeah, well, they shouldn’t. And you shouldn’t listen.”

  “What can I say?” Shane’s calm expression didn’t change. “You’re my brother. I care about you. Of course I’m going to listen.”

  Riley winced, his irritation replaced by a familiar sense of chagrin. Shane was just so caring, so decent, so patient, so good.

  He, on the other hand…wasn’t.

  Just like that, three-plus decades of transgressions flashed through his mind.

  According to their mother, Shane had slept through the night at three days old, while Riley had fussed from midnight to dawn for his first nine months.

  As toddlers, Shane had played contentedly with whatever was put in front of him, while Riley had chased disaster, scaling kitchen cabinets, sipping shampoo, dismantling playpens and safety gates, falling out windows.

  Shane’s early report cards had been filled with A’s and raves about how he worked well with others. Riley’s had contained C’s and D’s and tart comments about his failure to apply himself.

  By the time they’d reached their teens, Shane, an honor student, had already known he wanted to be a doctor and had been deeply interested in learning about their Native American heritage. Riley, who’d been belatedly diagnosed with a reading disability, had struggled with every subject except math. Worse—at least from his family’s standpoint—he hadn’t cared. The only thing that had interested him had been the opposite sex.

  Looking back, he supposed it was a miracle that despite their differences, he and Shane were such good friends. But then, while they didn’t look alike except for their inky hair—their Papaguo heritage was stamped on his brother’s face while Riley’s features came from their Anglo mother’s side of the family—they were bound together by thirty-two years of shared history.

  “So.” Shane’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  Riley regarded him blankly. “What question?”

  Shane sighed. “Do you or don’t you have something going with Angelica Dodd?”

  Riley hesitated, but just for a second. “Look, I’d rather the rest of the family didn’t know this yet, but yeah. We’re getting married.”

  “What!” Shane’s jaw dropped, and then he caught himself and his expression turned apologetic. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—that is, that’s great.”

  “Forget the diplomacy. She’s pregnant.”

  “How the hell did that happen?”

  Riley shook his head in mock disgust. “And you call yourself a doctor. Guess.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. It’s just that you’re always so damn careful. All these years, you’ve been adamant about not taking any chances. You’re the last person I’d expect this to happen to.”

  Riley shrugged, not about to admit that he’d surprised himself, too. Much less confess that the host of emotions he’d felt that night—tenderness, protectiveness, possessiveness—had been as out of character as his actions.

  But then, from the day of Mike’s accident, nothing had gone the way he’d expected. All of their lives, Shane had been the steady, dependable one. So it was no great surprise that Riley had been caught completely off guard when Angelica had turned to him to protect and support her. But she had, clinging to him as if he were her only port in an angry sea.

  And he’d liked it.

  And then afterward…well, hell. She’d just been so damn alone. It hadn’t been any sweat off his back to take care of a few little things for her. And she’d been so damn grateful. She hadn’t said very much, but the way she’d looked at him had made him feel as if he were some sort of knight in shining armor.

  They both should have known better.

  Not that it was any big deal, he was quick to assure himself. But still… “Hey, what can I say?” He forced a smile. “I’m human. I screwed up. Now all I can do is try to make things right.”

  If Shane recognized the irony in that, he didn’t let on. “Yeah, but marriage… It’s a huge step. Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I know it’s hard to believe—” he couldn’t keep a touch of sarcasm out of his voice “—but even I have some standards. I want my kid to have my name. And I want to be sure—if justice doesn’t prevail—that he or she doesn’t suffer.”

  “Hey, come on,” Shane protested. “It’s a bogus charge, and we both know it. And sooner or later, so will everyone else.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Riley retorted. “But I can’t afford to wait and see, can I?”

  Shane reluctantly shook his head. “No. I suppose not. So when’s the big date?”

  “I don’t know. There are still some…details…we have to iron out.”

  “Like what?”

  He made a vague gesture. “You know—the usual. Figuring out where a
nd when. Getting Angelica to say yes.”

  Shane choked on his beer. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s no big deal,” Riley said quickly. Too quickly. He forced himself to relax. “She just needs some time to think about it. Once she does, she’ll come around,” he added with more confidence than he felt.

  Because what Shane didn’t know—and Riley wasn’t about to tell him—was that Angelica had taken all the pricey bouquets he’d sent her and had donated them to the senior citizens center. And she’d refused delivery of the diamond earrings and bracelet he’d sent her, as well as the delicate gold necklace with the emerald pendant meant to flatter her eyes—much to the jeweler’s ire. What’s more, not only wouldn’t she take his phone calls, she’d flatly refused to wait on him the past three nights when he’d sat in her section at the Camel Corral.

  Unaccustomed to rejection, he felt a surge of frustration just thinking about it. “She will,” he repeated stubbornly.

  Shane cleared his throat, and with an inner curse, Riley saw the knowing look in his twin’s eyes and realized he must not be doing as good a job hiding his feelings as he thought. Yet to his relief, all Shane said was, “You want a piece of advice?”

  Chagrined to realize he actually did, he shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Forget the flowers. Go talk to her. Face-to-face. Tell her how you feel.” He glanced at his watch, set his half-full beer down on the coffee table and climbed to his feet. “And now, I’ve got to run. I promised Cynthia I’d fix dinner tonight.”

  “Be sure to give her my sympathy.”