Читать книгу Fortune's Perfect Match - Allison Leigh - Страница 10

“I’m serious,” Emily insisted, several hours later. “There’s no earthly reason why you can’t learn this design program if you want to.”

They’d started out at the conference table in Tanner’s office, but had ended up in Max’s closet-size office where she was hunched on a little stool next to his chair beside his desk. Even though his office was cramped, the computer humming on the desk in front of them was state-of-the-art.

Max just shook his head, though. Despite what she’d found to be an incredibly creative mind as they’d brain-stormed various advertising themes and she’d plugged some of the ideas into the sample website, now he just seemed adamant that he couldn’t also learn the graphics program that she, herself, personally favored. “Tanner’s always had his brochures and stuff designed by a company that specializes in that sort of thing.”

Feeling frustrated, Emily pushed her fingers through her hair, getting caught in her ponytail. She absently tugged on the band until it slid free. “That doesn’t mean they have to be,” she countered. She was focused on the computer screen where she’d been able to pull up her own computer at FortuneSouth over the internet, so she could show him some examples of the projects her department worked on.

She leaned closer to tap the oversize monitor screen. “This is a full-color brochure that we did a few months ago for a special corporate promotion we offered to one of Atlanta’s larger construction firms. We wanted it specifically targeted to their employees. So we did a small print run that we easily handled in-house.” She reached for the computer mouse, unintentionally brushing her hand against his before he quickly moved it away.

Ignoring that, as well as the way her hand tingled, she clicked a few times. Opened a second project so both were displayed. “Same exact brochure layout used again last week with redesigned messaging for a corporate law firm in Boston. Small print run again, minimal time spent revising the variables.”

Max was leaning back in his chair. He’d folded his arms across his chest. “I get the advantage of it,” he said. His voice was flat. “I just don’t know if it’s something I’m going to be able to master. I’m taking care of other stuff around here, too, that I can’t ignore. And if Tanner goes for all those website ideas of yours, I’m gonna be updating that every time I turn around, too.”

“We can minimize the effort of updating,” she assured. “And I admit there are entire courses designed around learning this graphics software.” She scraped her hair back and pushed it through the band. “But I could teach you the basics.”

His lips twisted. “You got the next six months available?”

“Don’t be so negative,” she chided. “It’ll take a few afternoons. It doesn’t have to take you away, entirely, from your other duties. I’ve got the time if you do.”

“Tanner’s going to owe you big.”

She sat up, stretching her back. It felt like she’d been hunched over his desk, sitting on that little stool, for hours. But as fond as she had become of Tanner, she knew she hadn’t made the offer because of him.

That offer came because of Max, himself, and she wasn’t going to lie to herself by pretending otherwise.

“Advertising’s my business. I’m actually good at it,” she said. “I enjoy it. But I usually end up spending most of my time sitting in meetings, directing everyone else’s projects while they get to do the fun stuff.”

His eyebrows shot up. “This is fun?”

She couldn’t help but grin. She had enjoyed coming up with the website as a surprise for Tanner. But she focused on Max. “Don’t pretend you don’t have a creative bone in your body.” She waved at the notes covering his desk. They contained just as many scribbles as hers. “You’re able to focus on the essentials, but not get your thinking locked into a box. Not everyone can do that, you know.”

Instead of smiling himself, though, he compressed his lips. He shifted and his desk chair gave a soft squeak while his gaze focused again on the computer screen. “Are you hungry?”

She blinked. “What?”

“I should’ve closed up shop two hours ago. It’s supper time.”

“Oh.” Of course. Her gaze flew guiltily to the small window that was all his office possessed. The sky was nearly dark. “I’m sorry. I got caught up in what we were doing.” She quickly pushed off the stool and carried it from behind his desk. He’d gotten it from the break room just down the hallway. “Of course you want to be done.” How many times had her assistant, Samantha, back at FortuneSouth had to remind Emily that the employees had lives beyond the walls of the company?

“All I asked was if you were hungry,” he commented before she reached the doorway.

She hesitated. “Well, I guess I am,” she admitted. She hefted the stool a few inches. “I’ll put this back in the break room.”

“Emily—”

She stopped in her tracks again, realizing that it was the first time he’d actually spoken her name.

She liked it.

“I was thinking we could continue this over dinner.”

Surprise held her still. She liked that idea, too. Probably more than she ought to, since it wasn’t exactly a date. Not that she wanted a date.

He was interesting and attractive and smelled incredible, and if she was interested in having a date with anyone, Max’s name would be at the top of a very short list. But the only dates she had planned in her future were those designed to put a baby in her arms.

It was pretty much a foregone conclusion that mentioning that plan to him would put the kibosh on him wanting to spend anything other than a business dinner with her.

“Um, okay. Sure. Unless you’d rather I just come back another day?”

He was already pushing back from his chair and gathering up the papers strewn over his desk. “Nope.” He stuffed the pages into a folder and opened the top drawer of his desk to pull out a set of keys. “Just leave the stool,” he said.

Feeling a little slow in the face of his sudden motion, she quickly set the stool out of the path of the doorway and grabbed her purse from where she’d left it on top of the filing cabinet that stood beneath the little window.

“Wait here while I lock up the front,” he suggested. “I’ve got more doors to take care of out back.”

In minutes, he returned and led the way back to the classrooms, checking doors and light switches as he went, plunging the hallway into darkness. “Hold on.” His hand reached back when she bumped right into him.

“Sorry,” she murmured.

His hand unerringly found hers. “My fault. Nearly there. Two more doors and we’ll be out of here.”

She opened her mouth and let out a silent breath as she followed behind him. She felt as silly as a schoolgirl with her first crush from nothing more than the heat of his fingers against hers.

Too quickly, he’d finished his rounds and they reached the back door. He let go of her hand as he pushed it open. Light from the lampposts outside flooded over them and she waited while he set the security system and locked up. “Do you have a problem with break-ins?”

“No. But Tanner doesn’t take chances, either.” He pocketed his keys and they walked around the building until they reached the parking area near the front of the office.

Aside from the luxury rental car that she’d had since March, the only other vehicle in the lot was a dark pickup truck.

She stopped at her car. “Shall I drive, or follow you?”

His gaze seemed to hesitate on the Mercedes. “What kind of food do you like?”

“How about Red?” Wendy’s husband, Marcos, managed the popular restaurant.

He nodded and headed toward his truck. “See you there.”

Which answered that, she thought, feeling a little pinch that she knew she had no business feeling. She rummaged through her purse, hunting for her key fob. She finally found it and unlocked the car, aware that Max was already in his truck and waiting. She quickly started the car and drove out of the lot, ridiculously conscious of his headlights in her rearview mirror.

By the time they made it to the restaurant and she found a parking spot in the crowded lot, she had her emotions well in hand again. She could see him driving through the lot, and she went inside to get their names on the waiting list while he hunted for his own parking spot.

“Inside, or the courtyard?” the hostess asked.

Emily peered past the people waiting to be seated. The restaurant was located in a converted hacienda and possessed an open-air courtyard in the center of the building. “Courtyard, please.” The heat of the day had passed, leaving the evening temperature nearly perfect. And there were a few tables still available there.

The girl smiled and made a notation on her list before gathering a pile of menus in her hand and moving off with a well-dressed couple.

Emily went out in front again to wait for Max. He was just crossing the parking lot, his legs eating up the distance. “I requested the courtyard,” she told him when he reached her. “If that’s all right with you.”

“It’s fine.” He nodded toward one of the benches situated outside. “You want to sit?”

She made a face. “Feel like my rear end is still flat from sitting too much already.”

He pinched his earlobe. “Whatever I say to that is probably going to get me into trouble.”

She felt her face go warm again. “I wasn’t hunting for a compliment.”

“I wasn’t trying to look at your rear end all afternoon, either,” his voice was matter-of-fact. “Some things just happen when a woman looks like you.”

Her jaw loosened. She didn’t know what to say to that. So she said nothing, and the silence started to stretch awkwardly.

Max was wishing he could cut off his tongue when the hostess mercifully poked her head out the door and called their name, but the truth was already out there.

He followed Emily through the busy restaurant and couldn’t help but notice that she slipped into one of the chairs at the small table they were shown to in the courtyard so quickly that he didn’t even have an opportunity to pull it out for her. He took the other chair and waited until the hostess handed them their menus and departed again before opening his fool mouth again. “This is a business dinner,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

There was a candle burning in the center of the intimate table and her eyes looked huge and mysterious behind the glasses she wore. “Don’t worry about it.” She unfolded her menu. “Considering my brother-in-law is a manager here, you’d think I’d know the menu inside and out by now but I don’t.” Her voice had that too-bright pitch that told him she was bugged about something.

By his inappropriate comment in the first place, or the fact that he’d apologized for it?

“What do you like here?” she asked, her gaze on her menu.

Her. He liked her.

He held back a sigh and opened his own menu. “Everything’s good. You could close your eyes and point and you wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“Good evening.” A waiter stopped next to their table, and set condensing glasses of water in front of them. “Welcome to Red. Can I start you off with a cocktail?”

“I’d love a margarita,” Emily said. She pulled off her glasses and tucked them in her jacket again. “On the rocks.”

“Very good. Salt?”

“Is there a point to a margarita without salt?” she returned humorously.

“Not in my estimation,” the waiter allowed, grinning. He was young and good-looking and obviously didn’t have a problem waiting on Emily.

Max felt an urge to punch the kid.

“And for you, sir?”

“Lemonade. Lots of ice.”

The boy nodded. “I’ll get those right out to you.”

“Margaritas have no place in dinner meetings for you, I guess,” she commented after the waiter left.

“I don’t drink.”

Her lips parted. She hesitated. Then she shook her head a little. “I’m sorry. I’ve put my foot in it, again.”

He frowned and realized he’d sat forward, even though she’d leaned back in her chair. “What are you talking about?”

“I just thought maybe we could relax a little bit. I certainly don’t need to have a cocktail if you’re opposed to drinking for … whatever reason.”

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he clarified bluntly. “Not since I quit. Is that what’s worrying you?”

Her head cocked. She slipped her glasses back on her nose. “I wasn’t worried. I just didn’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than you already seem.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

Emily eyed him, lifting an eyebrow. “Really? Smile much?”

For a beat, his handsome face looked surprised. Then his lips tilted. “Sorry. Better?”

She felt a definite dip inside her tummy at that crooked smile. “Much better.” Though her pride wasn’t too happy at the breathless way she sounded. She took a sip of her water, determined to follow the order of the evening. Which was business. “So, besides being tasked with the marketing materials, what else does Tanner have you doing around the school?”

Unfortunately, the question didn’t seem to relax him any. “Scheduling, billing, you name it. He handles all the stuff the FAA requires, but I’ve got the bulk of the rest of the paperwork.” He picked up his own water glass. “Lots of paperwork.”

“I can imagine. What’d you do before you started working for Tanner?”

“Worked as a ranch hand. Still do on the weekend if I’m not flying.”

If she hadn’t seen for herself his natural abilities inside the office, she would have figured that sort of outdoor work was much more his style. “What ranch?”

“The Double Crown.”

She sat back, surprised. “That’s Lily and William’s place.”

He nodded. “You’re related, right?”

“Distantly.” She smiled briefly at the waiter when he set their drinks on the table. “Thanks.” She touched the menu that she’d barely glanced at. “Can we have a few more minutes?”

The waiter nodded and disappeared again.

A waitress passed by carrying a heavy tray of food. Emily couldn’t help noticing the way the girl’s eyes fixed longingly on Max. She couldn’t blame her. Emily was having a difficult time not just sitting back to admire the view, herself. He was tall—easily six feet, she’d guess—and his short brown hair was a little shaggy, but thick and glossy-looking all the same. He had an extremely masculine appearance—not fussy at all, but all the more attractive as a result. And his eyes—his eyes were as pale blue as the Red Rock summer sky.

“All the Fortunes here are cousins something-something removed,” she said, hastily returning to the conversation at hand before he realized she was ogling. “But getting to know them all better has been really nice. So, you must like horses and cattle and all that?”

He shrugged. “As long as they’re getting what they need, they don’t care who is feeding and watering. Or shoveling.” His long, blunt fingers surrounded his sweating lemonade glass.

Her gaze slid from his fingers, up along his sinewy wrist. She swallowed and quickly reached for her margarita, looking away for a quick moment toward the glistening water flowing down the tiered fountain situated in the center of the courtyard to gather herself. “Too bad more people aren’t like that.”

His eyebrows pulled together for a quick second, as if she’d surprised him by the comment. But all he did was unfold his menu and look down at it.

She sipped her drink, feeling the warmth of the tequila hit her throat. She shouldn’t have ordered the drink. As he’d said, this was a business dinner. Add in the fact that she hadn’t eaten since that morning …

She set the heavy margarita glass down and stared at her own menu. But she didn’t really see the words. She was fairly certain that there’d been a board listing the chef’s specials at the front of the restaurant which would make choosing easy, since she couldn’t manage to concentrate on anything other than Max.

She closed her menu decisively. “Tell me a little more about how you got your pilot’s license. Are you able to fly often on the weekends? Where do you go? What do you do?” She couldn’t imagine when he had the time, considering he was holding down two jobs.

“I don’t necessarily have places in mind to go. It’s the flying itself that grabs me. And technically, it’s not called a license but a certificate,” he said, closing his own menu. “Right now I’m working on my instrument rating. I put a lot of time in on the simulator. Sunday afternoons roll around and I’m either in the sim room or up in the air.”

She shook her head slightly. “Frankly, I find it a little alarming that pilots learn how to fly sitting in front of a fancy computer.”

His expression lightened. She’d noticed that happened whenever he talked about flying. “We have to put in that air time, as well. Only some of our hours can come from the sim. The sim’s not only less expensive—no aircraft, no fuel—but sometimes it’s easier to get the time on it. Because … no aircraft. Tanner’s students are all jockeying for time in the planes. Scheduling is a bi—well, it’s a real task. Sometimes you gotta settle for what you can get.”

“I hadn’t even thought about the fuel.” She barely registered that she’d sat forward again, propping her chin on her hand. “Is it the same kind of gas we use in our cars?” She dipped her finger over the coarse salt lining her margarita glass and sucked it off her finger.

His gaze flicked away from her lips. He shook his head. “Avgas. Aviation gas and nowhere near as cheap.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess that proves everything is relative. I think the price of filling my car’s gas tank is ridiculous.”

“Wouldn’t think that would bother you.”

She felt a little pause. “Because I’m a Fortune, you mean?”

He held up his lemonade glass, tilting it a little toward her as if to say “bingo.”

“Just because my family has money doesn’t mean I’m unaware, or uncaring, about the cost of things.”

His lips twisted a little. “And the last time you didn’t do something you wanted to do because you couldn’t afford it?”

She let out a little sigh. All the financial advantages that she had at her disposal hadn’t put a baby in her arms, yet. Hadn’t gotten her even close. Her appointment with the adoption attorney that very day had simply underscored that point. There were no women around—none that they could find, anyway—who were interested in a private adoption even though Emily was offering to cover all of the mother’s medical costs. The few pregnant girls who’d responded to her attorney’s ad had all passed on the opportunity when they’d learned Emily was single, and planning to stay that way.

“Money doesn’t buy everything.” She dipped another speck of salt off the glass and touched it to her tongue. “And money or not, I think people are like your animals out at the Double Crown. Not caring how or why so much, just as long as we have what we need.”

He clearly didn’t believe her. “And what do you need?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

And fortunately, the waiter returned then. She ordered the first special he reeled off and she was a little surprised when Max did the same.

Somehow, she doubted his reason was the same as hers.

The waiter disappeared again and an awkward silence fell over the table. Emily couldn’t quite figure out why. She’d never felt particularly tongue-tied in any business situation before. She looked around the restaurant. The flickering candles on the tables. The gurgling fountain and the Latin-flavored music. Nothing there felt businesslike. Certainly not sitting at the small table with Max, her knees only inches from his.

She suddenly didn’t want a business situation. She wanted social. And that was an area in which she’d never felt particularly comfortable. Just like Wendy had accused.

The young waitress was clearing a table beside them, but her gaze kept turning to Max, and Emily leaned over the table toward him. “I think you have an admirer,” she said softly, sliding her gaze to the side.

He grimaced and, surprisingly, hunched forward, as well. “That’s just Ellie.”

She felt breathless with their noses only inches apart above the flickering candle. “So you do know her.”

“She’s a kid.”

“I think she looks pretty grown-up to me.” The girl filled out the frilly, white peasant-style blouse she was wearing in a way that Emily had given up on ever achieving when she’d hit twenty. “If looks could kill, I’d be wearing a toe tag. How do you know her?”

“She used to be a cocktail waitress at one of the bars I liked to frequent.”

“Why’d you quit drinking?” She knew it was none of her business, but the question popped out anyway.

“I needed to.”

Which she’d assumed, but the answer still told her nothing. She took the answer as the roadblock it had probably been meant to be and propped her chin on her hand again. Another fortifying sip of her margarita had warmth sliding down her throat.

He had the most compelling eyes. She wondered fancifully what he’d say if she told him she’d thought about his eyes more than once in the days since she’d been buried in airport rubble. “What were you doing at the airport that day?”

“When the tornado hit?” He pinched his earlobe, then dropped his hand on the table. His finger grazed her elbow. But he didn’t move it away and her heart gave a funny little lurch. “I’d been over at the hangar with Gary. We saw the storm rolling in.” His lips compressed for a moment. “Once we realized what was happening, he told me to head over for the terminal, do what I could do to make sure people were taking shelter, while he was gonna make sure the planes were secure in the hangar.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “When I got there, it was complete mayhem. I didn’t even know until later that the hangar had been hit, too. Gary was hit by a collapsing beam. Damned old man never came out of a coma.”

She could all-too-easily imagine sharing Gary’s tragedy. “Instead of helping me, you could have been helping him,” she said softly.

But he shook his head. “That’s not the way Gary would have thought.”

“Is it the way you think?”

His gaze met hers. “I think some things happen for a reason,” he finally said. “And I could make myself crazy trying to understand them, or I can just deal with the facts and move forward.” He made a face. “Something else that Gary taught me.”

She couldn’t help herself. She leaned forward, covering his hand with hers. “You were close, weren’t you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. And when he did, his brief “Yeah” managed to convey so much more. Then he turned his wrist, flipping his hand until their palms met.

Her heart lurched even harder.

“Two Red Flame specials,” the waiter announced as he balanced a tray next to the table. “Chicken breasts stuffed with asiago cheese, spinach and sun-dried tomatoes served over roasted chiles. And you know how seriously we take our chiles here. You order ‘em, you’re committed.”

Emily sat back again as the waiter set their plates in front of them. She wished he would have taken a little longer with the food.

Max didn’t seem to show any such disappointment, though, as he dropped his napkin onto his lap and jabbed his fork into the steaming entrée.

Emily spread her own napkin on her lap and more slowly picked up her fork. The well-known reputation that Red possessed wasn’t a fluke, and even though she was more interested in her dinner companion than she was in the dinner itself, the spicy aroma coming from her plate did its magic and she tucked into the meal, feeling more ravenous than she’d expected.

Two bites in though, she realized just how spicy the dish was. “Oh, my word.” She gasped, grabbing her water and downing half of it. “I’ve burnt off the top layer of my tongue,” she said when she finally set down her water.

Max was grinning. “Didn’t pay enough attention to Julio’s warning when he described the dish?”

“Evidently not.” She realized she was grinning, too. She couldn’t help it in the face of his.

“Here.” He pulled the wedge of lime off the rim of her margarita and held it up. “Suck on this.”

She didn’t know what possessed her.

Maybe it was the fact that her palm was still humming from the touch of his against it. Maybe it was the way his lips canted up a little higher on the right side than the left when he smiled. Or maybe it was just the balmy evening, the flickering candlelight and the tinkling sound of water from the fountain in the center of the patio.

Instead of taking the lime from him, she simply leaned forward and sank her teeth into the small wedge, closing her lips around it to suck at the tart fruit.

His pupils flared.

Time seemed to stand still.

Finally, he let go of the lime and sat back. “You want to dance?”

She slowly drew the lime from her mouth. “Okay.”

And despite the fact that their plates were still steaming hot from the kitchen, he abandoned his chair and walked around to hers, pulling it away from the table.

She stood, too, and felt a shiver trickle down her spine when it seemed as if she could feel his warm breath on her neck.

Then he held out his hand.

She dropped her glasses on the table next to her plate and set her palm against his.