Kate Fortune’s Journal Entry

Oh, my! My son Jake accused of murdering Monica Malone! Whatever will the family do? I know, without a doubt in my mind, that Jake is innocent. That evil Monica has brought nothing but trouble for this family. I suspect she was at least partly responsible for my plane crash and supposed death. And I’m sure she wasn’t acting alone. So, I must still remain in hiding to catch the culprits. But how am I going to help Jake get out of this mess?

A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear Reader,

First and foremost, FORTUNE’S CHILDREN is about a family. A big, adventurous, larger-than-life and very American family. A family with a loving, powerful, matchmaking woman at its head. What fun, I thought, when my editor offered me the opportunity to write one of the twelve books in the series. I love to write about families. So I was hooked.

But there was more: an ongoing mystery revolving around that loving, powerful, matchmaking woman at the head of the family.

And then my editor told me about the other authors who’d be participating: really terrific award-winning, top-selling authors. I’d be in such good company.

And best of all, my own contribution to the series would include a sexy single dad, an adorable lost little boy, a Saint Bernard dog with a heart as big as Lake Superior—and a woman on the verge of a whole new life.

I mean, honestly. How could I resist?

I couldn’t. And I didn’t. And it’s been every bit as much fun as I thought it would be.

I hope you enjoy Wife Wanted, too—as well as all the other books in the FORTUNE’S CHILDREN series.

Sincerely,

Wife Wanted
Christine Rimmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CHRISTINE RIMMER

came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful, too—not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves who loves her right back and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day-to-day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at her new home on the Web at www.christinerimmer.com.

Meet the Fortunes—three generations of a family with a legacy of wealth, influence and power. As they unite to face an unknown enemy, shocking family secrets are revealed…and passionate new romances are ignited.

NATALIE FORTUNE: The loving schoolteacher always helps those in need. However, an accident forces her to rely on her new tenant to care for her. And she soon finds that Eric Dalton’s tender touch is irresistible….

ERIC DALTON: The handsome single father can’t ignore the place Natalie has taken in his and his son’s hearts. He is falling in love with her, but is he willing to take a risk on marriage and make Natalie his wife…?

JAKE FORTUNE: Will he stand idly by and let Monica Malone take over Fortune Cosmetics? Or will he find a way to stop Monica—permanently?

JESSICA HOLMES: This desperate mother needs help to save her young daughter’s life. Will her newly found Fortune relatives come to her aid?

LIZ JONES—CELEBRITY GOSSIP

Monica Malone is dead! And Jake Fortune is the murderer! Yeah, yeah, he says he’s innocent. But come on, Jake. Weren’t you the last one to see her alive? Weren’t you arguing with her over a very personal—or perhaps financial—matter? Didn’t your own daughter see you drunk, and disheveled?

And you expect the good people of this fine city to believe you’re innocent? If you’re not guilty, then I’m Princess Di!

I’m sick and tired of the rich and their fancy, high-priced lawyers getting away with murder—literally. I hope they throw the book at you, Jake Fortune!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

One

The ad in the Star Tribune had sounded like just what the doctor ordered:

Last-Minute Summer Rental: Spacious, comfy farm-style lakefront house on ten acres. Close to Twin Cities. Fifty-six foot houseboat included for those long, lazy days on the lake. Terms and length of stay negotiable. Call Bud at Walleye Property Mgement: 555-8972

Rick Dalton had seen the ad in Friday’s paper. He’d called the number right away and spoken with Bud Tankhurst, who told him that the lake in question was Lake Travis, and that the house was “A slice of the past with all the modern conveniences.” And that yes, the property was still available. The owner would be willing to show Rick the house and grounds and possibly discuss terms that Sunday, June 29, at two in the afternoon.

Rick and his son, Toby, left Minneapolis at a little after one on the appointed day. It seemed like no time at all before they were turning off the highway and onto the narrow, winding road that would take them to the farmhouse.

The countryside was just as Rick had hoped it might be: serene and lovely. Maples and ash trees loomed thick all around, so they drove through a tunnel of vibrant green. Rick rolled down his window to get a whiff of the fresh, moist air and to listen in on the songs of the birds and the steady drone of cicadas.

According to Bud Tankhurst, there were over fifty miles of shoreline in the many branches and inlets of Lake Travis. Eighty percent of that shoreline was privately owned, which kept the tourists to a minimum and meant that even though the lake was near the Cities, they saw few other cars on the road.

“Beautiful, isn’t it, son?” Rick asked, as if he actually might get an answer.

But of course there wasn’t one. A quick glance at Toby, in the passenger seat, reminded him not to get his hopes up. The five-year-old sat staring straight ahead, his thin face a blank.

Rick resisted the urge to ask, “Toby, did you hear me?” He’d asked that question too many times in the past six months. Silence had always been the answer.

Rick checked the numbers on the mailboxes as they passed driveways that wound off into the trees, presumably on their way to lakefront houses like the one he sought.

“Almost there,” he said, when the numbers neared the one Bud Tankhurst had given him. He tried to speak casually, to show no frustration with his son’s unwillingness to communicate. Dr. Dawkins, Toby’s psychiatrist, said that it was important to talk to Toby, to include him in conversations, whether Toby seemed to respond or not. Dr. Dawkins said that Toby did hear and understand, that he was improving steadily, and that with time and the right kind of attention he would be just fine. Sometimes Rick wasn’t so sure of that. But he followed the doctor’s orders anyway, as best he could.

Rick slowed the car when the mailbox with the address he sought loomed up on the right. “Here we are,” he said, as if the words mattered. He turned into the gravel drive, spotting a shingled roof through the thick branches of the trees.

Two hundred yards later, he pulled up in front of a two-story house with white clapboard siding on the bottom story and shingles on the dormers and touches of gingerbread trim at the eaves. Rose trees lined the white-pebbled walk to the front porch—a deep, inviting porch, furnished with white wicker armchairs and love seats. There was even a swing.

A good-size expanse of lawn surrounded the farmhouse. There were several lush trees planted in the lawn, their leaves fluttering in the slight breeze. Above, the sky was soft as a baby’s blanket, and as innocently blue. Behind the house lay the lake, which glittered invitingly in the afternoon sun.

“It’s perfect,” Rick said to Toby.

And just as he said that, someone inside the house decided it was time for a little rock and roll. Loud rock and roll.

Rick couldn’t help grinning. “So much for perfection.” He recognized the song: “Piece of My Heart.” It had been a favorite of a reclusive girl who roomed down the hall from him during his last year at college. The singer was Janis Joplin, a blues-rocker who had lived hard and died young and whose wild, rough life was there in every raw, impassioned note she sang.

Rick glanced at Toby, and found blue eyes just like his own watching him.

“Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.” Rick had to raise his voice a notch to compete with the tortured wails that came from the house.

Toby granted his father a tiny nod. Or at least Rick thought he nodded.

But whether Toby had nodded or not, Rick knew it would be safe to leave him alone for a few minutes. Toby was emotionally unresponsive, but very well behaved. He might not acknowledge Rick’s instructions, but Toby always did what he was told.

From the house, competing with Janis’s agonized moans, came what sounded like the howling of a dog.

What the hell was going on in there?

Rick cast his blank-faced son one last reassuring glance and then went to find out.

By the time he’d lifted a hand to ring the doorbell, the dog inside was yowling as loud and hard as Janis. And Rick thought he could hear another voice, human and female, wailing right along with Janis and the dog. Of course, when he rang the bell, he got no answer. No one inside there could possibly hear anything over all the racket.

Rick tried the door; it was unlocked. He pushed the door inward on a foyer that smelled of sunshine and bees-wax. Without the door to muffle it, the screeching and howling swelled even louder.

Stepping inside, Rick moved toward the sound, which came from beyond a pair of open doors to his left. He halted between the doors, on the threshold of an old-fashioned front parlor.

He saw immediately that there was a stereo on the far wall, from which Janis’s voice was blaring. On the sofa across the room sat a Saint Bernard, its massive head tipped back, its throat working enthusiastically to produce an earsplitting approximation of doggy harmony.

The dog wasn’t the only one trying to keep up with Janis. Between the door where Rick stood and the sofa where the dog yowled, a shapely brunette dressed in a spangled forties cocktail dress and gaudy platform shoes wiggled and wailed. She wore a fringed lamp shade for a hat, and she was shrieking right along with Janis and the baying Saint Bernard. Rick leaned in the doorway, wondering with some amusement what she would do when she turned around and discovered him standing there.

It took a few moments to find out. The brunette was too involved in her performance to realize that she’d attracted an audience. But the dog noticed Rick right away. It lowered its huge head, gave a deep, soft woof, and got down from the couch. Tongue lolling, it circled the dancing, singing woman, then loped over to Rick and nuzzled his thigh with a large, wet nose. Rick granted the animal a quick scratch behind a giant-size ear.

The woman went right on singing her heart out. Rick watched the action. Though he had yet to see her face, she looked great from behind. Apparently the lamp shade obscured her view of the dog, because it took her a while to figure out that the animal was no longer sitting on the sofa, bellowing along with her. Readjusting her lamp shade, she shimmied around, no doubt wondering where the dog had gone. She froze in midscreech when she caught sight of Rick.

“Oh!” She whipped the shade off her head, her creamy skin flooding with agonized color. “How long have you been standing there?” She had to shout to be heard over the din Janis was making.

Rick did his best to stop grinning. “Long enough,” he yelled back.

She made a pained face. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“I rang the bell, but—”

She waved a hand. “Never mind. I understand.” She trudged to the bare-bulbed floor lamp in the corner, where she spent a moment putting the shade back where it belonged. After that, she marched over and turned off the stereo.

She started apologizing as soon as the music stopped. “You must be my prospective tenant. Excuse us. We just… Well, Bernie begged me to play Janis, so I did. He loves that song.”

“Bernie,” Rick echoed. “That would be the dog?”

“Um-hm.”

“The dog can talk?”

“Not exactly. But he always gets his point across. When he wants to hear Janis, he brings me the CD.”

“A bright dog.”

“Extremely.”

Neither of them paid much attention as the dog in question wandered out the door, wagging his tail and panting. The woman swiped moist hair off her brow, drew her shoulders back and closed the distance between them, holding out her hand.

“I’m Natalie. Natalie Fortune.”

Rick took her hand. It was soft, a little hot from all that dancing and singing—and a nice fit in his. She smelled of clean sweat and soap and flowers. He introduced himself. “Rick Dalton.”

Still a little breathless, she put a hand against her chest. “And there’s a little boy, right?”

“Right.”

She looked down at their joined hands, and he realized that the handshaking was already done. He released her. She stepped back just a little and gazed up at him. She had the most gorgeous big brown eyes he’d ever seen. “I, um, understood that you were going to be here at two.”

He glanced at his watch. “I guess I’m a few minutes early.”

She smiled, still blushing a little. “And I let the time get away from me.” Her smile changed then; it became tender. “Hello.” She was looking beyond him.

Rick turned to see Toby hovering just inside the front door, his little mouth quirking shyly upward in response to Natalie Fortune’s greeting, his small hand resting companionably in the ruff of the Saint Bernard, which stood at his side.

Rick was stunned. His son had actually smiled.

Her ridiculous platform shoes clumping with each step, Natalie tramped right around Rick and across the hard-wood floor of the foyer to Toby, where she dropped into a crouch. The big dog took a hint from his mistress and plunked down on his hind quarters. Together, Natalie and Toby petted the dog.

“I see you’ve already met Bernie,” she said.

Toby nodded.

“And I’m Natalie. What’s your name?”

“Toby. His name’s Toby,” Rick supplied quickly.

Toby reached out shyly and touched one of the bangles on Natalie’s dress. A silvery laugh escaped her. In a vamp’s voice, she said, “You like? Come zeez way, my darlink.” Taking Toby by the hand, she rose. The Saint Bernard trailed behind as she led the boy back into the parlor, circling around the bemused Rick for the second time.

At one end of the sofa lay a huge old steamer trunk, its lid flung back, various articles of clothing spilling out. Natalie led Toby right to it.

“This trunk was my grandma Kate’s,” she announced. “It belongs in the attic.” She pantomimed wiping her brow. “Don’t ask me how I managed to get it down here. Boy, was it heavy!” She groaned. “And how I’ll get it back up is another thing.” She shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Later. But for right now, Bernie and I have been having fun. I found this fabulous dress in there.” She looked down at her bangles and beads and then up long enough to grant Rick a wink. “Not to mention these incredible shoes. And some of my grandpa Ben’s things are in here, too.”

She knelt by the trunk. Toby stood to her left, and the Saint Bernard dropped to his haunches on her right. “You see, Toby, this house was my grandma and grandpa’s ‘second honeymoon’ house.” She began pulling things from the trunk. “When they’d been married a long, long time and two of their kids were pretty much grown, they bought this house across the lake from their big mansion.”

She pulled out a flowered scarf, a wide-brimmed pink hat and a black patent-leather clutch purse, all of which she set on the floor. “Do you know why they bought it? I’ll tell you. They bought it because they realized they’d grown apart over the years and they needed to find each other again. This house was the perfect place for that. It was simple and quiet and comfortable and they both fell in love with it. And they hoped that they might fall in love with each other again when they stayed here.”

She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “And do you know what?” Toby was watching her, his small face rapt. “They did find each other again. Nine months after they spent one beautiful week here, my grandma had another baby.”

Natalie began dressing the Saint Bernard in the things she’d pulled from the trunk. “It’s true.” She slanted the wide-brimmed hat just so on the dog’s head. “After one short stay in this house, Grandma Kate had my aunt Rebecca, who is only a few years older than I am.” Natalie tied the flowered scarf around the dog’s neck and stuck the purse in his mouth. Then she clapped her hands in delight and declared, “He looks great, don’t you think?”

Toby actually nodded. The dog thumped his heavy tail.

Natalie looked up and caught Rick watching her. She flashed him a quick grin, then rose and advised Toby, “Go ahead without me. Bernie loves to play dress-up.” Bernie managed to bark in agreement without dropping the purse from his big, droopy jaws. “I’m going to show your father the house.”

She moved out from behind the trunk. “Ready for the tour?”

Captivated, Rick heard himself say, “Sure.”

She marched past him in her silly, glittery shoes. He fell in step behind her, but couldn’t resist one backward glance at his son, who was trying on a World War II army helmet and ducking to avoid Bernie’s affectionate tongue.

Natalie led him to the foyer and up the stairs first, explaining that the house had been thoroughly modernized four years before, that the kitchen had been remodeled and a bath and a half added.

“Now all the windows are double-paned.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “And you’ll even have air-conditioning, for those hot summer days.”

Rick listened to her little sales pitch, but his mind was on what had happened in the parlor. As they reached the top of the landing, he couldn’t help remarking, “You have a way with kids.”

She shrugged her padded shoulders, and the beadwork on her dress glinted in the buttery sunlight that spilled in the window over the stairs. “Kids and dogs. What can I say?”

“Next you’ll be telling me you’re a kindergarten teacher.”

“First and second grade, actually. I teach at the school in town.”

“Town?”

“You came out from the Cities, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if you keep going on the road you took to get here, you’ll come to Travistown, around the far end of the lake. Population three hundred and forty. We have our own school, though a few grades always get combined, and we have a market, a hardware store and a couple of gift and clothing shops. And Walleye Property Management, of course.”

“Right. Bud Tankhurst is one of the agents there.”

“Bud Tankhurst is the only agent there. He owns it and he runs it. His wife, Latilla, does the books for him.”

“I see.” Her eyes really were the biggest, brownest eyes he’d ever seen. And her face was…familiar.

Her smooth brow furrowed. “Is Toby all right?”

Rick tensed. “What do you mean?” He knew he sounded defensive.

She leaned against the banister. “I mean, is something bothering him? He seems…too quiet. I don’t think he said a word just now.”

Rick looked away. He’d been in this woman’s house for ten minutes, max. She was a stranger. But she didn’t feel like a stranger. She drew him. And in ten minutes, she’d already accomplished the impossible: She’d made his little boy smile.

He met her eyes once more. “Both Toby’s mother and his maternal grandmother died several months ago. A car accident. Toby was in the car when it happened.”

Natalie made a small sound of distress.

“Toby hasn’t spoken since the accident.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry….”

“His mother and I were divorced. And I…hadn’t seen Toby in a while. That’s why I’m interested in this place. Toby’s doctor says Toby’s making progress, but that he would get better even faster if we had more time together, just the two of us. Time for Toby to learn for certain that he can trust me. And time for me to get to know him better. Does that make sense?”

Those big eyes were full of understanding. “Yes, it does. Perfect sense.” She came away from the banister. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

He thought that he could stand here talking to her forever, but all he said was “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

She pushed the doors open on two small bedrooms and showed him the bath the rooms shared. “These will go with the rental.”

He looked across the hall at two closed doors. She caught the direction of his gaze and explained, “That’s my bedroom, a bath and a sitting room. There’s a master bedroom and a study downstairs, so I was hoping that maybe we could just leave my private rooms out of the arrangement—if it’s only going to be you and Toby.”

“I see.”

“I’d adjust the rent accordingly, of course.”

“If I take the place, that would be okay with me. There are more rooms than we’ll need, anyway.”

She led him back downstairs, through the study and the big master bedroom, with its private bath. There was also a spacious kitchen, a pantry and laundry room with a half bath. Between the parlor and the kitchen was a formal dining room. And branching off from the kitchen was a breakfast area and a big, open family room, which Natalie referred to as the great room.

Once Rick had seen it all, they settled at the breakfast table to talk things over. Natalie said she’d hoped to find a renter who would take the house “as is,” with all her furniture.

“That would be fine with me. But if we do this, I’d like to use the study for Toby’s bedroom. Sometimes he has nightmares, and I want to be close by.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t mind at all if you brought down one of the beds from upstairs.”

“Great.”

She was grinning. “I think this just might work out.” She braced her elbow on the table and propped her chin on her hand.

It hit him then. He remembered a spread he’d seen in some glossy magazine. A gorgeous redhead sitting at a table with her chin in her hand and an impudent grin on her lips. Her eyes had captured him as he thumbed the magazine: big and brown and soft. Just like the eyes of the woman across from him now.

The caption under the picture had read Fortune’s Face: Your face. Then, now and always…

He couldn’t stop himself from asking, “You said your grandmother was named Kate? Kate Fortune?”

She sighed. “The truth comes out.”

“The Kate Fortune? Of Fortune Cosmetics?”

“Yes.”

“You know, you look a little like—”

“Allison Fortune.” She said the name of the world-famous model and spokesperson for Fortune Cosmetics with resignation. “She’s my sister. Actually, she’s married now. Her last name’s Stone. Allie Stone.”

She didn’t look very eager to say more, and Rick wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He remembered reading how her grandmother, an expert pilot, had died tragically over a year ago. The plane Kate Fortune was flying had crashed in the jungles of the Amazon. The body, from what Rick recalled, had been burned beyond recognition.

“If you decided to take the house,” Natalie said, a little stiffly, bringing them back to the topic at hand, “the groundskeepers from my family’s estate, across the lake, will look after the property, so you won’t have any worries there. And a woman will come in once a week to clean the place.”

“Fine.”

She looked down at her hands, which she’d folded on top of the table.

“What?” he asked.

She met his eyes again, and her white teeth worried her bottom lip.

“You look as if there’s something you don’t quite know how to say.”

She chuckled. “You’re right.”

“Just say it.”

“All right. There’s one condition, if you did decide to take the house.”

“I’m listening.”

“You’d have to take care of Bernie while you’re here.”

He really hadn’t been prepared for that one. “You want me to watch your dog for you?”

Her face was flushed again. “I know, it’s crazy. But Bernie comes with the house.”

“But why?”

She glanced away, then back. “This is Bernie’s home.”

He knew there had to be more to it than that, but she was obviously reluctant to tell him what. Rick considered her request, remembering the sight of his son standing in the doorway, with his hand on the dog’s neck. And there were ten acres of property around the house; enough even for a dog that large.

While he thought it over, Natalie provided more detail about her plans. “I’m renting the house because I want to take a long vacation. I’m going on a cruise of the Mediterranean. I’ll be leaving July twenty-eighth, to return at the very end of August so I can get ready before school starts. But if the time frame’s wrong for you, I can stay across the lake, at the family estate I mentioned, either before or after I leave for my trip. My parents have split up and my father’s living alone at the estate now. He’d be glad to have me.” Her big eyes clouded a little, making him wonder whether there was some problem with her father.

The Fortunes were a very important family. And since Kate Fortune’s death, it seemed to Rick, there’d been a lot of news in the papers about them. A missing heir had turned up, and Fortune Industries stock was down. In fact, Jacob Fortune, CEO of the Fortune companies, had made the front page of the Star Tribune only this morning. The article had not been flattering. Could that particular Fortune be Natalie’s father? If so, it was no wonder she was worried about him.

Rick studied the woman across from him, thinking how uneasy he’d been about this whole “vacation” idea. He was a professional man, after all. He’d started out with nothing, and the whole focus of his life had been making something of himself. He’d never had much time for kids—and he didn’t understand what made them tick. The painful truth was, he’d been scared to death that he would blow this experiment royally.

But fifteen minutes ago, he’d seen firsthand that his little boy could be reached. Natalie Fortune had reached him—just by smiling and saying hello.

Now, she was watching Rick anxiously, no doubt worried by his extended silence. “Mr. Dalton?”

“Call me Rick. What?”

“Is there some problem?”

“No. No problem at all. This sounds just right for us. And I’d be glad to look after the dog. I need a couple of weeks to arrange a leave of absence from my job and tie up my affairs in the Cities. So I’d like to move in on July twelfth, and stay until August thirty-first. And don’t move across the lake unless you want to. It’s a big house, and you’re welcome to stay right here until you leave on your trip.”

The smile she gave him then took his breath away. “Whew. Relief. That’s what I’m feeling now. Capital R. I thought for a moment there that you were going to say this wasn’t what you were looking for.”

“No, this is exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Good. Because you and Toby are perfect. Bernie will be so happy you’re the ones.”

“Bernie will be happy?”

She rolled her eyes. “I really wasn’t going to go into it.”

“Into what?”

“You’ll think it’s odd.”

“Tell me.”

She shrugged her spangled shoulders. “All right. It’s like this. Bernie was my grandma Kate’s dog. When she left me the house in her will, she stipulated that Bernie always had to have a home here. Also, until I get married, the house always has to be occupied.”

Rick understood then why she’d seemed so uncomfortable when she requested that he look after the dog. He couldn’t help asking, “What does your getting married have to do with anything?”

Around her neck she wore a thin gold chain with a single charm, a golden rosebud, hanging from it. Her fingers closed around the charm. “If my grandmother were still alive, you can be certain that I’d ask her.”

Rick shook his head, marveling at the eccentricities of the very rich.

“So. Do we have a deal?” she asked.

“You haven’t named a price.”

She did.

“That sounds more than fair,” he said.

She stood. “I’ll get you an application, then. But it’s just a formality. If you want the house from the twelfth of July until the end of August, it’s yours.”

“I want it.”

She got him the papers, then returned to the parlor to join Toby and the dog while Rick filled in all the blanks on the application.

“Finished?”

He looked up to see her standing in the door to the hall, still dressed in her forties finery, with Toby on one side and the dog on the other.

He grinned. “All done.”

“Then leave those boring papers right there and come on. I want you to see the Lady Kate.”

They all trooped out to the sloping expanse of lawn behind the house and down to the lake. She took them out onto a wide dock and into the attached boathouse, where the houseboat, that had been mentioned in the ad was moored next to a much smaller open-bowed ski boat.

“This is the Lady Kate, one of my grandpa Ben’s favorite toys,” Natalie explained fondly, patting the hull of the larger boat. “Grandma Kate liked speed and adventure. She was an ace pilot. She even had a hydroplane dock put in at the estate across the lake. And just a few years ago, she bought herself a matching pair of jet skis. She was forever harassing the rest of us to buzz around the lake with her. But Grandpa Ben had a quieter side. He liked long days on the lake with his fishing pole. Sometimes he’d take me with him. And more than once, he took my whole family—my dad and mom, my brother and sisters and me. We’d all stay the night out on the water.” She laughed her musical laugh. “It was no hardship, I can tell you. The Lady Kate has all the conveniences of home. She’ll be at your disposal during the time you stay here.” For a moment, those enormous eyes met his. And he couldn’t help thinking that he’d like more than the houseboat to be at his disposal.

He wondered at himself. In the past few years, since the debacle that had been his relationship with Vanessa, he’d been wary of women. But from the moment he stepped into Natalie Fortune’s parlor, his usual wariness had seemed to fade away.

The big dog bumped against his side. And Toby, who was holding Natalie’s hand, turned for the door that would take them out onto the open dock. The adults and the dog followed where the silent little boy led them.

Outside, the water lapped softly against the pilings and the wind ruffled the surface of the water and far off over the lake somewhere Rick actually imagined he heard the wild, laughing cry of a loon.

He wanted to forget all about Minneapolis and the architectural firm where he’d been working like a demon for nearly a decade now. He wanted to forget his expensive house on its nice suburban street and just stay here. Leave it all behind and remain forever in the rambling farmhouse by the lake with the son who had smiled today and the big, friendly dog and the enchanting woman who sang along to Janis Joplin wearing a lampshade on her head.

But none of that was possible—not for two weeks, anyway.

He smiled at his son. “It’s time to go.”

Two

Natalie waved goodbye as her new tenants drove off. Bernie bumped against her side. She knelt and ruffled his neck fur.

“You love ’em, don’t you, boy?”

Bernie swiped at her with his big, sloppy tongue, letting her know just how happy he was. Natalie laughed and ducked away from his canine kisses. She was every bit as pleased as her dog.

Not to mention relieved. Five prospective tenants had come by yesterday; none of them had worked out. But now she could relax. She’d found just the right people to look after the house and Bernie. The silent, sad-eyed little boy was adorable. And Rick Dalton seemed ready to treat her house and her dog as if they were his own.

He was also a hunk, with his lean good looks and his warm, exciting smile. And she would be living right here with him for two weeks….

Letting out a little grunt of self-disgust, Natalie rose from petting the dog. It was only in her silly, romantic fantasies that men like Rick Dalton wanted a woman like her. In real life, she was much too ordinary to hold their interest for long. And besides, he was taking the house for his son’s sake. He’d have his hands full trying to get to know that little boy of his. The last thing he’d be looking for would be a summer romance.

And Natalie wasn’t looking for romance, either—at least not until she got on that cruise ship and met someone exotic and different. Then maybe she’d go in for a shipboard dalliance. So what if she’d never been the “dallying” type. There was a first time for everything, after all.

“Come on, Bernie.” She started up the walk. Halfway to the porch, she heard the phone ringing. She broke into a sprint and almost turned her ankle on the step, thanks to the platform shoes from Grandma Kate’s trunk.

She made it to the foyer extension just before the answering machine picked up in the study—and then she wished she hadn’t hurried.

“Natalie, what took you so long?” It was Joel Baines, whom Natalie had dated exclusively for five years, until a month ago, when Joel broke it off.

At first, after Joel told her it was over, Natalie had been crushed. She’d wandered around the house in a bathrobe, beset by crying jags, wondering what was the matter with her. But then she’d come to her senses and realized that Joel had done her a favor; she’d faced facts. Joel had been with her for two reasons: because it stroked his ego to have a Fortune on his arm, and because she’d made herself so incredibly convenient—always there when he needed her, always ready to do things his way. She didn’t need a man like him in her life.

Unfortunately, for the past few days, Joel had been having second thoughts about his decision to end their relationship.

Natalie hadn’t. “Joel, stop calling me.”

“But, Natalie…”

“I mean it. Listen. Do. Not. Call. Me. Again.”

“Natalie, I was a fool.”

“Joel, you betrayed me.” He had confessed that he’d been unfaithful, just before he told her that he was through with her.

“I never should have told you about my little mistakes,” Joel said. “I can see that now.”

“Just leave me alone. Please.”

“I love you, Natalie. There’s a big fat hole in my life with you gone. If you’ll just—”

“Goodbye, Joel.” She hung up.

And, for a moment, she felt really good. Really, completely in charge of her life and affairs.

But only for a moment. Then, through the door she’d left open when she raced for the phone, she saw her mother’s white Mercedes as it fishtailed into the turnaround by the front walk. Erica Fortune stomped on the brakes and brought the car to a skidding stop, spewing gravel in her wake.

With a sigh, Natalie went out to meet her.

Erica emerged from the car wearing a beautiful white linen suit that should have been a mass of wrinkles, but wasn’t. On Erica Fortune, linen didn’t dare wrinkle.

“Oh, Nat. Thank God you’re here.”

“What is it, Mother?”

Erica smoothed back her shining silvery-blond hair with a slim, perfectly manicured hand. The huge emerald ring that matched her eyes glittered in the sunlight. In her other hand she clutched a rolled newspaper. “Here. Look.” She held out the paper.

Reluctantly Natalie took it and opened it up. It was that day’s edition of the Star Tribune.

“Bottom right,” her mother muttered.

Natalie turned the paper over. And there was her father’s face. Bad Business at Fortune Industries, the headline read.

“I just…I need to talk,” Erica said, giving Bernie, who had been waiting patiently for her to notice him, an absentminded pat on the head. Then she let out a small moan. “Oh, Nat, I just don’t know what’s happening with him. Do you know what that article says?”

Natalie shook her head.

“It dredges up all the old dirt all over again, accusing your father openly of sabotaging his own company. There’s a lot about the total insanity of his selling his personal stock to that awful, incomprehensible Monica Malone.”

Like Erica and Natalie’s sister, Allie, Monica Malone had once been a Fortune Cosmetics spokesmodel—the very first one, decades ago. And along with becoming Fortune’s Face, the woman had become the reigning queen of the silver screen. No one in the family could stand her, but it seemed she was always in the background somewhere, stirring up trouble—and never more so than recently, since Grandma Kate’s death. She’d been buying up stock in the company wherever she could find it. And when it came out six months before that Jake had turned his own shares over to her, no one had known what to make of it—and they still didn’t, because Jake adamantly refused to give a single reason for what he had done.

“And that’s not all that’s in there,” Erica continued. “There’s speculation about the fires at the Fortune labs, a rundown on the threats against Allie, a description of the company break-ins, and if you turn the page you’ll be treated to a chart that shows how far the company stock has fallen. Jake gets the blame for not dealing with anything right.

“Oh, what’s happened to him?” Erica moaned. “I just… I still can’t understand why he would do such a thing. He’s always put his duty to the family and the company above everything else.”

Natalie was scanning the article. She looked up. “I can’t see anything new here. It’s just more of the same old stuff.”

Her mother sniffed. “Yes, and now even more people know all about it, since it’s a front-page story in the Sunday edition.”

Natalie asked carefully, “Mom, what can you do about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you going over to see Dad? Is that it?”

“No. I can’t do that. You know I can’t. Jake and I are hardly speaking.”

“Well, then, maybe it’s a mistake to get all worked up.”

Erica shook her head. “I can’t help myself. I’ve been furious with your father for a long time now. But lately, I… Nat, a woman can’t just forget all about a man she’s spent thirty years of her life with.”

Natalie knew what was really bothering her mother: Erica still loved Jake. And Jake still loved her. Natalie wished they would work through their differences and reunite. But she was not going to get sucked into the family drama this time around. She had spent too many years playing confessor, comforter and caregiver to her family—as well as to the men in her life. And now she was bound and determined to make things different for herself.

“Nat…”

“What?”

“You know, if anyone could get through to your father, it would be you. You’re so reasonable and level-headed, and you always know just what to say to get people to open up to you.”

Natalie looked straight into her mother’s gorgeous green eyes. “Mom, we have talked about this. I won’t play go-between. Not anymore. And that’s that.”

Erica was quiet. Somewhere in the trees beside the house, a bird trilled out a few bars of song. Then Erica nodded. “Of course. You’re right. I know you are.”

In spite of her determination not to play the role of rescuer, Natalie ached for her mother. Within Erica there had always been a deep vein of dissatisfaction, of restlessness, though the world saw only a beautiful mask of cool ice-princess control. Lately, since Erica and Jake had separated, the veneer of cool control seemed to be cracking around the edges, while the fitful unhappiness was more and more obvious.

Natalie tucked the paper under one arm and put the other around her mother’s proud, model-straight shoulders. “Come on inside. I have some iced tea already brewed.”

Her mother perked up a little. “You’re a lifesaver, Nat. If we could just sit and talk for a while, I know I’ll feel better.”

“And that’s just what we’ll do. Come on.”

But Erica had stepped outside her own misery enough to notice what Natalie was wearing. She stood back. “What in the world have you been up to?”

“Dress-up.” Natalie was glad for the chance to lighten the mood. She turned in a circle, vamping. “Do I look fabulous, or what?”

Erica groaned. “Or what.”

Natalie shimmied her shoulders and shook her behind. “You’re just jealous, that’s all. You cool, understated types never get to wear the bangles and beads.”

Erica tipped her blond head to the side. “You know, fifty years ago, it would have been showstopping.”

“Fifty years ago, I’m sure it was.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I found a trunk in the attic.”

Erica laughed, then considered. “That dress was not Kate’s. It’s too flashy for Kate.”

“I thought the same thing. But who knows? Whoever it belonged to, it was in the trunk, and I couldn’t resist trying it on.”

Both women grinned, then grew somber. And then, as so rarely happened now, Natalie was the child again, looking to her mother for comfort.

“I miss her, Mom.”

And Erica was the one putting a consoling arm around her daughter. “We all do, honey.”

Natalie leaned into her mother’s embrace. “It’s as if the world is spiraling out of control, since we lost her.”

“I know. Oh, I know.”

“I can’t help feeling that if she were here, everything would be all right. She’d get right to the bottom of this…problem with Dad. And she’d take care of that awful Monica Malone. And she’d know right away if Tracey Ducet was the phony we all thinks she is.” Tracey, who was the image of Natalie’s aunt Lindsay, had recently surfaced claiming to be Lindsay’s lost twin— and thus the heir to a huge chunk of Fortune assets. Sterling Foster, the Fortune family’s longtime attorney, had been investigating her claim, privately saying it was false, but unable to prove anything, since the FBI records seemed to have been lost somehow.

“But Kate is not here,” Erica said sadly. “And we must accept that.”

Natalie leaned even closer to her mother. At the same time, she felt for the chain around her own neck, and the rosebud charm at the end of it. The rosebud was a talisman from her grandmother; Kate had left a different charm to each of her children and grandchildren. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“Sometimes I feel that she is here. Do you know what I mean? That she’s watching over us. That she’ll never let real harm come to any of us.”

“Oh, Nat,” Erica murmured tenderly, “you always were the most sentimental of all my babies.”

“Okay, so it’s corny. But still, it’s how I feel.”

Erica made a sound of understanding and stroked Natalie’s hair.

Then Natalie stepped back. “Now come on.” She took her mother’s hand. “Let’s go in. I could use a little iced tea myself.”

Hand in hand, mother and daughter walked up the white-pebbled walk between the rose trees to the house.

Neither of them noticed that Bernie didn’t follow. The big dog had wandered down to the boat dock behind the house.

And during the whole time Natalie and her mother were sharing iced tea and sympathy at the breakfast table, Bernie sat at the end of the dock, staring longingly out over the water to where a blue-and-white patio boat floated lazily on the slow currents of the lake.

“This is pure foolishness, Kate. And you know it.” Sterling Foster rose from the pilot’s chair of the patio boat and went to stand in the bright sun at the bow.

Kate watched him. He was a handsome man, tall and still trim, even in his mid-sixties, his shoulders straight and square. His hair was thick and white as snow. Kate had always liked him and admired him. In the past eighteen months, since the plane crash, she supposed it had gone beyond mere liking. But she stopped there. Her whole life was on hold until this crisis was solved. She had never planned to stay “dead” for this long, but she couldn’t figure out how to come back without destroying all that she had accomplished—and all she had yet to do.

Kate’s best friend wasn’t pleased with her now, though. He turned and focused penetrating blue eyes on her. “You’re a very distinctive-looking woman.”

“Why, thank you, Sterling.”

He glared at her. “Dark glasses and a big hat aren’t going to hide you from someone who knows you.”

Smiling a little, Kate glanced down at herself. She wore a teal-blue silk tunic and trousers to match, a wide straw hat tied with a scarf, and large dark glasses, which were intended to camouflage her face. “Don’t be testy, Sterling.”

He let out a low grunt of disgust. “I’m not testy. I’m realistic. You lived at the estate for years. Most of the people in Travistown knew you personally. Anyone floating by on another boat might recognize you.”

Kate gave him a small shrug of her shoulders and looked away, out toward the farmhouse where, years and years ago, she and Ben had been happy. Her sweet, bighearted Bernie was there, sitting so patiently on the end of the dock. The dog had been waiting in the same spot for nearly an hour now. Kate’s heart went out to him. He would have to wait a while longer before he would see his old mistress again.

Kate wondered how Natalie was doing. Since her “death,” more than one of Kate’s loved ones had stumbled upon love and fulfillment. The truth was, Kate had been taking a secret pleasure in a little matchmaking—from beyond the grave, as it were.

And in the past few weeks, she’d been thinking of Natalie. A lot. Sterling, who kept her informed about all her children and grandchildren, had told her that Natalie and Joel Baines had broken up. Kate thought that was great news. She’d met Joel more than once, and she hadn’t been impressed. Now maybe Natalie could begin looking for the real thing.

Sterling interrupted Kate’s thoughts. “I will remind you, Kate, that you’re the one who keeps insisting you can do more behind the scenes to discover who’s trying to destroy the Fortune name and all it stands for than you ever could working in the spotlight. If you’re recognized today—”

“I know, Sterling. I know. And you’re right. It would be…unfortunate if I were recognized. But I won’t be.”

Sterling’s response was a muttered expletive, and nothing more.

Kate softened her tone. “Sterling, please try to understand. I needed to come here today. So much of my life has been here….” She turned her head away from the farmhouse, toward the huge estate that she and Ben had built together in the first, heady years of their success. She couldn’t see it from here, of course, but she knew it was out there, that it stood as proud and indomitable as ever, a huge, columned edifice of echoing, high-ceilinged rooms. At one time, in spite of all its opulent grandeur, it had been home.

Of course, when Kate thought of the estate these days, she thought of Jacob, too. Jacob lived there now. Alone.

“Kate?” Now Sterling was sounding almost gentle.

Kate shook herself. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

Sterling’s thoughts paralleled her own. “Jake is a problem. If this stock situation isn’t handled, he could lose everything you and Ben worked your lives to build.”

Kate stopped him with a wave of her hand. “Not now. Please.” She turned her head once more, so that she could see the farmhouse again. Her beloved Bernie was still there, waiting for her….

“What’re you up to, boy? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

The dog turned and whined a little, then looked at the lake once again.

Natalie shaded her eyes and stared out at the faraway patio boat that floated on the wind-ruffled surface of the water. It was one of the rentals.

“Sorry, big fella.” She patted his flank. “It’s no one we know. Come on, let’s go inside. I want to change out of this dress and haul that trunk back up to the attic where it belongs.” Natalie turned for the bank. But she only got a few steps before she realized the dog hadn’t fallen in behind her. She slapped her thigh. “Come on.”

With one last, longing look at the water, the dog did as she commanded.

“Look, Sterling,” Kate said. “It’s Natalie.” Kate lifted the pair of binoculars she’d set on the seat. “Oh, my. She’s been up in the attic, I see.” Kate recognized the spangled dress and sparkly platform shoes. It had been long out-of-date when Kate herself wore it—for a Halloween costume at a party twenty years before.

The faraway figures of the woman and the dog turned and walked toward the farmhouse. “She needs love.” Kate lowered the binoculars. “Real love, a man who’ll give to her as she’s always given to everyone else. That’s why I left her the farmhouse. Ben and I found such joy there. Maybe she will, too. And Bernie will help. That dog has a nose for people. He never did care much for Joel Baines.” She laughed. “Remember the first time Natalie brought Joel to the estate? Bernie chased him into the butler’s pantry and kept him there for ten minutes, until the rest of us figured out what was going on and called Bernie off.”

Kate could see that Sterling was trying not to smile. “I don’t believe I remember that,” he said.

“Oh, yes, you do. You were there for dinner that night. You tried not to laugh then, too, as I recall. But it doesn’t matter. What matters is, Natalie is free of Joel now. Free to find a man who adores her and appreciates her and will spend his life showing her just how much.”

Sterling put on a disapproving frown. “Don’t you think maybe you’re carrying this matchmaking thing a little too far, Kate?”

“No, I don’t. Not at all. One can never take anything too far, if love is the prize.”

Sterling looked doubtful. “But what was the point of the stipulation that the house has to remain occupied at all times until Natalie marries?”

Kate smoothed a wrinkle from her silk trousers. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on dying for quite a while, and you know how I always fiddled with my bequests. At the time I thought it sounded right.”

Sterling grunted. “Well, what you’ve done is made it all more complicated. Every time the poor woman wants to go somewhere, she has to find someone to stay at the house.”

Kate chuckled. “She seems to be managing. And I want to know everything that’s happening with her. Keep in close touch with her, won’t you?”

“You know I always do.”

The next day, Natalie was cutting roses to put in the parlor when Sterling Foster arrived in his big maroon Lincoln Town Car. Natalie ran out to meet him. In many ways, over the years, the family’s longtime attorney had become like another member of the family. She greeted him with a hug and led him into the house.

“So, what are you up to lately?” he asked as she poured him a tall glass of lemonade.

She told him all about the details of the cruise. He already knew she was going, of course, since he was the one who managed her trust fund.

He listened to her plans and said he thought they sounded terrific. “But remember,” he cautioned, “by the terms of your grandmother’s will, this house must stay occupied and Bernie must be cared for here.”

She reassured him that she hadn’t forgotten, and explained all about the great tenants she’d found. “They’re moving in on the twelfth, a while before I’m slated to leave. But it’s all worked out perfectly, because Rick says it’s fine with him if I stay right here until I’m ready to go.”

“Rick?”

“Yes. Richard Dalton. His little boy is named Toby. Rick’s an architect. With Langley, Bates and Shears, in Minneapolis.”

“Did you have him fill out an application?”

“Of course.” She grinned. “And I even read it over. That’s how I found out he’s an architect.”

“Meaning you’re not planning to check him out.”

“I’m an intuitive kind of person, Sterling. You know that.”

He gazed at her patiently. “May I have a look?”

“Oh, Sterling….”

“Be intuitive, Natalie. But let me check him out.”

Natalie hesitated. She really did think Rick and Toby were just the tenants she’d been seeking. But then, she’d also thought that Joel Baines was the man she’d spend her life with.

“Oh, all right.” She went to the study and came back with the papers Rick had filled out. “If you find out something bad, you’d better tell me right away.”

“I will. I promise.”

Three

The phone was ringing as Natalie staggered in from the small enclosed side porch that served as a mudroom in winter. She was lugging several bags from a number of exclusive Minneapolis boutiques. She dropped the bags inside the door and raced for the kitchen extension.

It was Sterling, calling to tell her that Rick Dalton had checked out just fine.

“It’s about time you called me,” she chided. “They’re due to move in two days from now.”

“Sorry. I wanted to do a thorough job.”

“I’ll bet.”

“And there’s no problem, anyway. I’m sure he’ll make a fine tenant.”

“I told you that over a week ago.”

“I know, I know. Intuition wins again. But isn’t it nice to know that the facts support your instincts?”

Natalie agreed that it was. Smiling, she thanked Sterling for looking out for her. Then, after promising to meet him for lunch before she left for the Mediterranean, she said goodbye.

She was turning to pay some more attention to her glamorous new wardrobe when the phone rang again. She picked it up.

And then immediately wished she hadn’t.

“Natalie. I called just a minute ago. The line was busy.”

“Joel. Give it up.”

“Natalie, we have to talk.”

“No, we don’t. Goodbye, Joel.”

He was still begging her to talk to him as she gently replaced the receiver. She looked over at Bernie, who had stretched out on the floor a few feet away, his head on his paws.

“Some people just don’t understand the word no.”

Bernie lifted his head and yawned hugely.

“My sentiments exactly.” She started for the side door and her waiting bags of beautiful clothes, but then decided that maybe she ought to check her messages first. After all, she had been gone all day.

In the study where she kept the answering machine, she found there was only one message. From a soft-spoken woman with a British accent.

“Hello. My name is Jessica Holmes.” On the tape, the woman paused, then sighed. “Oh, this is so difficult. Actually, I’m calling because I’m seeking relatives of a Benjamin Fortune. I thought perhaps… I don’t know how to put this—except to say that the matter is extremely urgent. I would greatly appreciate a call back if you are related to, or know of, a Benjamin Fortune, aged in his seventies, who served in France during the Second World War.” The voice left a London number and said goodbye.

Torn about what to do next, Natalie hovered by the machine as it squeaked and beeped and reset itself. As one of the few people in her family who kept a listed number, Natalie often paid the price for being so accessible; she got a lot of crank calls.

Total strangers had contacted her on more than one occasion with “urgent” messages. Inevitably they turned out to be reporters trying to get an inside scoop, or would-be wheeler-dealers who thought someone from the Fortune family might be interested in getting in on the ground floor of whatever money-making scheme they’d dreamed up.

No one before had mentioned Grandpa Ben, though. That was a slightly different angle.

Natalie replayed the woman’s message and actually went so far as to start to dial the number Jessica Holmes had left. But then she shook her head and put down the phone. She was sure of what would happen: The woman would turn out to be working some kind of angle. And Natalie had dealt with people like that one time too many.

As the machine reset itself, she thought again of getting back to the job at hand: her new wardrobe. She’d spent three days in Chicago last week, buying everything in sight. And today she’d driven into the Cities to pick up a few other things. She was going to be très glamorous at the railing of that cruise ship, her hair blowing in the wind off the Strait of Gibraltar. Or maybe dancing on the tables in some picturesque Greek restaurant, drinking too much retsina and staying up until the crack of dawn.

But then it occurred to her that Rick Dalton and his little boy would be arriving in two days’ time. And Rick wanted to put Toby here, in the study, so that he’d be nearby if Toby had bad dreams during the night.

It was definitely time to move some furniture around. And she’d need some help; her back had been sore for two days after she dragged that old steamer trunk back up to the attic. Natalie picked up the phone and dialed the number of the big house across the lake.

When the morning finally came that he and Toby returned to Lake Travis, Rick was more than ready to go. Though it was hotter and muggier than it had been that day two weeks before, the drive through the countryside was every bit as lovely as the first time. Rick simply kept the windows up and let the air-conditioning do its job.

As they neared the farmhouse, Rick was conscious of a rising feeling in his chest, a lightness, a sense of pure anticipation at the prospect of seeing Natalie Fortune again.

It was crazy, and he knew it, but he couldn’t get the enchanting brunette out of his mind. He knew he’d thought about her way too much in the past weeks, about her big brown eyes and her shining coffee-colored hair and the subtle perfume she wore that seemed both floral and musky at once. And about the way Toby had responded to her and her huge, friendly dog. After that visit, Toby had seemed more withdrawn than ever by comparison.

Rick gave the boy a quick glance. Miracle of miracles, Toby met his gaze.

“Excited?” Rick asked.

He got no answer, but he was sure he saw Toby’s little mouth quirk. Rick chose to take that as another positive sign that this vacation was going to be the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.

When they pulled into the turnaround in front of the walk, the captivating Natalie was there on the lawn, as Rick had secretly imagined she might be. She wore cutoffs and a snug T-shirt, and she was laughing, tossing a big stick for that lumbering, wonderful dog of hers to fetch.

Rick’s heart did something impossible inside his chest. Dressed that way, with her hair caught back in a messy ponytail and sweat from the heat and the exercise making her skin gleam, she was Rick Dalton’s living, breathing fantasy of the girl next door. No one would guess that she was actually a daughter of one of America’s wealthiest and most famous families.

She gave them a wave and tossed the stick overhand. It sailed, end over end, through the air. The dog loped off after it, and she jogged over to the car. Rick rolled down his window.

She stopped a few inches from his door. “Right on time.” She was panting. Sweat had darkened her shirt beneath her arms and between the soft swells of her breasts. Rick would have sworn he could smell her: flowers and musk. He felt a hard, thoroughly inappropriate kick of arousal, one that tightened his slacks and cut off his air.

He forced himself to breathe, grimly reminding himself that his son was sitting in the passenger seat beside him and he hardly knew this woman.

Right then, the Saint Bernard came bounding up, the stick Natalie had thrown for him clutched in his jowls. Natalie’s quicksilver laugh rang out as the dog headed straight for Toby’s side of the car. Once he reached the passenger door, the huge animal sat, dropped the stick and gave a low, friendly woof.

Toby flung open his car door, jumped down and wrapped his too-thin arms around the dog. Rick watched, his heart aching in his chest.

He glanced at Natalie. She met his eyes and smiled—a soft, quivery-lipped kind of smile. She understood what a step Toby had just taken. And she was moved.

A moment ago, Rick had wanted her desperately. Now he just plain adored her. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind now that the woman and her dog were absolute magic.

When he looked back at his son, Toby was already lugging the big stick out to the lawn. Bernie trotted along behind him.

“Come on,” Natalie said. “Let’s get your things inside.”

Rick popped the trunk latch from inside the glove compartment. When he got out and went around to the back, Natalie was there ahead of him, pulling two bags of the groceries he’d bought into her capable arms. He hauled out a couple of suitcases and followed her up the walk, pausing to call a reminder to Toby that he wasn’t to wander off anywhere. Toby turned and looked at him, which Rick knew meant the boy had heard and understood.

Inside, Rick found that Natalie had already made the study over into a bedroom. He set Toby’s suitcases down and admired the changes while Natalie went on out to the kitchen to drop off the grocery bags. Rick was still surveying the room where his son would sleep when she appeared in the doorway.

“I had a couple of my father’s men come across the lake to help me out,” she explained. “We switched the furniture in here with the stuff from the room at the top of the stairs.”

Rick was standing on the far side of the bed. He touched the bedspread, which was quilted and stenciled with airplanes. “I don’t remember seeing this upstairs.”

Her cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink. “All right. I confess. I bought the bedspread just for Toby.” She moved into the room, across the bed from him, and touched the wooden propeller of the airplane lamp that sat on the nightstand. “And I bought this lamp.” She pointed at the airplane mobile in the center of the room. “And that, too. I thought Toby would like them.”

They looked at each other across the airplane quilt. Rick spoke around the sudden lump in his throat. “It was kind of you. To go to the trouble to fix up the room for him.”

“No trouble. Really.”

“You’ll let me reimburse you.”

“No, I won’t.”

He started to protest.

She put a finger to her lips. “Shh. Not another word about it.” She turned for the door. “Now, come on. We haven’t finished unloading the car yet.” And she was gone, leaving him no choice but to follow. Which he did, after a moment spent grinning like a idiot at the airplane mobile rotating slowly in the slight breeze created by the air-conditioning vents.

Within half an hour, Rick had all of his and Toby’s things put away and his car parked next to Natalie’s in the big garage on the south side of the house.

Natalie was showing him where to put his groceries when he told her he wanted to take the Lady Kate out onto the lake for a picnic lunch.

“That okay?” he asked.

“Of course. Sounds like fun.”

Rick picked up the last bag, which was full of packaged goods, and headed for the laundry room and the small pantry closet there.

Natalie watched him go, reminding herself, as she’d been doing ever since the man and the boy arrived, that Rick was the tenant and she was the landlady. And that was all.

The problem was, Rick seemed even more attractive now than he had two weeks ago. His eyes seemed bluer, his shoulders broader. And every time he smiled at her, her stomach did the strangest things.

Her thoughts on Rick and not much else, Natalie went to the refrigerator and took out a package of deli-sliced ham, some spicy mustard and a big jar of kosher-style dills.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked. He was standing in the short hall from the laundry room.

She froze and looked down at the food in her hands.

And it came to her: She’d been about to make him some sandwiches. She was the landlady and he was the tenant and nothing in the rental agreement said a thing about meals. And yet he’d mentioned the word lunch and she’d automatically started making it.

She was just a hopeless case—that was all there was to it. Get her near an available man, and the first thing she did was start fixing his food for him. It had been that way with Joel. She’d loaned him money when he was short—some of which he never had paid back. She’d graded his papers and cleaned his little cottage in town. She’d bought his groceries when she bought her own—and then been waiting for him every night when he showed up at her door with his dirty laundry under his arm and “What’s for dinner?” on his lips.

Rick clearly had no clue of the direction of her thoughts. He was grinning. “Lunch is already made. I stopped at a deli before I left Minneapolis.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. They even put it in a nice big picnic basket. It’s got everything—including paper plates and plastic forks. I left the basket on the front porch. Maybe you didn’t see it.”

She sincerely prayed that her face wasn’t as red as it felt. “Um. No, I guess I didn’t.” Very carefully, she set the sliced ham back in the meat drawer and the mustard and pickles on a shelf and closed the refrigerator door. “Listen. I’ve got a few things to do. I should probably just get busy on them.”

He folded his arms and leaned against the little section of counter that projected off the wall to the laundry room. “Damn. I was hoping you’d come with us.”

Her heart lifted. It was ridiculous. She had to get a grip on herself here. “You were?”

“Yeah.” He was wearing a dark blue knit shirt and khakis. The shirt clung to the hard contours of his shoulders. And with his arms folded like that, the muscles of his biceps were starkly defined. And his dark hair was so shiny, it even curled a little. It was the kind of hair any woman would want to run her fingers through. And he had the nicest mouth. It was firm, but there was fullness to it. Natalie thought that it would probably be a wonderful mouth for kissing—a mouth that could command and beguile at the same time.

“Natalie.”

“Um. Yes?”

“Come with us.”

“Oh, I really shouldn’t. You know how it is, when you have so many things to—”

“Please?”

And her own mouth just opened and she heard herself say, “Okay.”

He stopped leaning on the counter. “Great.” He looked so cool and collected.

And she realized that she felt sticky and grungy in her old cutoffs and sweaty T-shirt. “Listen. Could you give me a few minutes? To clean up a little.”

“Take all the time you need.” He started walking toward her.

She backed away, all nerves and confusion. She shouldn’t be going with him. She shouldn’t have said yes. He was renting her house for a couple of months, she reminded herself for what had to be the hundredth time. And that was all that was supposed to be going on here. “A few minutes. Really. I won’t be long.”

He stopped in the middle of the kitchen. “I’ll go out and hunt down Toby and the dog.”

“Yes. Do that. Good idea.” She backed around the central island that contained the stove, and then just kept walking backward toward the main hall. Rick watched her go.

As soon as she lost sight of him, she realized how silly she must look, walking backward through the hall. So she turned around, squared her shoulders and marched, head high, up the stairs.

She came down twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in white shorts, a red silk camp shirt and a pair of sandals. The shower and the change of clothes had helped a lot. She felt much more in control of herself—until Rick smiled at her and told her she looked great and she felt like a tongue-tied teenager all over again.

They all trooped down to the dock out back and into the boathouse where Rick put the lunch basket in the big galley of the cabin, and then got a quick lesson in how to operate the boat from Natalie. Since no one planned to water-ski, they left the smaller boat behind.

For their first time out, Natalie backed the Lady Kate from the slip inside the boathouse, so that Rick could see how it was done. Then, once they were launched and pointed in the right direction, she turned the wheel over to Rick.

Several miles out, they turned off the big engine and let the boat drift. Rick brought out the lunch. More than once as they devoured the lemon roast chicken and pasta salad, Rick teased Toby that Bernie would get fat if he didn’t stop slipping him treats.

“And look how big he is already,” Natalie said. “If he gets fat, he’ll fall through the floor of the farmhouse.”

“He’ll sink the boat,” Rick warned.

Natalie couldn’t resist adding, “The dock will collapse when he wanders out onto it.”

Toby just looked at them—and gave Bernie the last hunk of his dinner roll.

When they’d eaten their fill, the child and the dog stretched out on the deck, while Natalie and Rick made themselves comfortable on the padded benches that lined the bow. They leaned on the railing and gazed off at the shoreline, picking out the houses that could be seen here and there between the trees.

“There. Look. That’s my family’s estate.” Natalie pointed at a huge green expanse of lawn on a faraway bank. The lawn swept up to a graceful stone balustrade and a wide terrace. Behind the terrace loomed an imposing Greek Revival-style house, its many windows glittering like jewels in the afternoon sun.

“Impressive,” Rick said.

A wave of sadness washed over Natalie. Once, the huge house had been like a second home to her. But now, with her father living there alone save for the small army of staff the place required, it just wasn’t the same. She’d spoken to her father two days before, when she’d asked him to send help to switch the furniture around for Toby. He’d sounded awful—distracted and distant. In spite of her determination to steer clear of family turmoil, she hadn’t been able to stop herself asking him if he was all right.

He’d laughed; it had been a grim, depressing sound. And he’d told her not to believe everything she read in the papers, that he was getting by.

Now, she found herself telling Rick, “When I was a little girl, it seemed as if we used to spend more time in that house over there than at our own house in Minneapolis. We’d come out on weekends, even in the deepest heart of winter, when the grounds were covered in a blanket of white and we had to spend most of the time indoors. And in the summer, we’d sometimes come and stay for weeks at a time. Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben lived there together, right up until he died, about ten years ago. When I was little, my aunt Rebecca— She’s Grandma Kate and Grandpa Ben’s youngest. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”

“Rebecca Fortune…the mystery writer?”

“That’s the one. Anyway, Aunt Rebecca was still a child, too. So she lived at the estate. And my uncle Nathaniel used to bring his family for visits, the same as my dad and mom brought us—all the time. So the place always seemed like it was full of kids. Overflowing with activity. Laughter and happy shouts just bounced off the walls.”

Rick was watching her, smiling a little. “How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

“Three sisters, one brother.”

“A big family.”

“You actually sound jealous.”

“I am,” he admitted. “I was an only.”

“You wanted siblings?”

“You bet I did.”

She couldn’t resist confessing, “There have been times I would have gladly given away one or two of mine.”

“Which ones?”

“Is that a fair question?”

“Natalie. Come on.”

“Oh, all right. The twins. Allie and Rocky.”

“Allie’s the model.”

“Yep. And Rocky looks just like her. They’re identical. Two of the most gorgeous women in the world—even though Rocky never went in for the glamour route. She’s a pilot, like Grandma Kate.”

“Why would you have given them away?”

“Did I say that?”

“Come on. Spill it.”

She laughed. “All right. Because I was so jealous of them, that’s why. They always had each other, no matter what else went wrong. They had that thing that identicals so often have. A world of their own. It was sometimes as if they could read each other’s minds, you know? And even though they were two years younger than me, which should have given me some kind of edge over them, I was the one who felt left out.”

“So you were jealous of their closeness.”

“Yes. And that’s not all.”

“I’m listening.”

And he was. Listening. So intently. As if he really cared. She felt her cheeks coloring. “Why am I telling you all of this?”

“Because I asked. Go on.”

“It’s not important.”

“Natalie.” He looked at her levelly. “I want to hear it.”

She believed him. She shouldn’t, she knew it. But she did. She heard herself confessing, “Well, to me it always seemed that, between the two of them, Allie and Rocky were perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“Um-hm. They seemed to have every single desirable trait that I lacked. Beauty and courage, a spirit of adventure, an air of excitement that followed them both wherever they went. And you know what?”

“Uh-uh.”

“They’re both still like that. Gorgeous and brainy and brave and exciting.” She rested a hand on the bench cushion and leaned toward him. “And Caroline, my older sister, is no slouch, either. The truth is, I’m the boring sister.”

He faked a groan. “Are you fishing for compliments?”

She thought about that, then confessed, “Sure sounds like it, doesn’t it?”

He leaned toward her, so there were only inches between their noses. She caught a hint of his after-shave, a fresh, outdoorsy scent, and found herself thinking that he smelled every bit as good as he looked.

He said, “You are not boring.”

She sighed. Rick was a terrific guy.

Too terrific, a voice way back in her mind warned, to ever want or need someone like you.

She had to get some distance. Fast.

She shifted back away from him. “We should either drop the anchor or start up the engine again. We’re getting a little too close to shore.”

They started the engine. Toby, who’d been sitting on the deck with Bernie, got up and stood proudly beside his father as Rick took the wheel. At a cove Natalie knew, they dropped the anchor.

When she and Rick were settled on the padded bench once again, Natalie found herself asking him, “Are your parents still alive?”

Rick shook his head. “They died when I was in my teens. An electrical short that started a house fire. Late at night, while we were asleep. I woke up and managed to get Mom out, but couldn’t find Dad. A neighbor saved me, but they… neither of them made it.” He looked out over the water.

Not stopping to consider whether such a move was wise, she laid her hand on his. “How sad for you.”

He looked down at where she touched him. “It was a long time ago. I went to live with my aunt and uncle, but they didn’t have kids, either. Anyway, I always wanted a bunch of brothers and sisters. But you know what they say, if wishes were horses…” As his voice trailed off, he looked up into her eyes. Then, slowly, he turned his hand and wrapped his fingers around hers.

Natalie was stunned. It seemed at that moment like the most intimate thing any man had ever done to her—to turn his hand and take hers and look right into her eyes as he did it. Suddenly, the day seemed terribly hot, the air unbearably close and humid against her skin. And the hand that held hers was so warm and encompassing, sending little shivers zinging through her.

She realized he was smiling at something behind her. “What?” she asked, turning.

Bernie was stretched out on the deck, asleep. And Toby had used the dog as a giant-size pillow. The big brown-and-white belly cradled the small, dark head. The boy’s eyes were closed, and his thin chest rose and fell in an even, shallow rhythm.

Natalie turned back to Rick again. He smiled at her, deep into her eyes. And for a moment, what they were doing—sitting here, holding hands as the boy and the dog slept so peacefully a few feet away—seemed the most natural, right, thing in the world to be doing.

But then reason reasserted itself.

Natalie Fortune, are you out of your mind? that voice in her head warned. Before you know it, you’ll be doing his laundry and raising that darling little boy for him.

It occurred to her that there were worse fates.

And that was when she knew she was really in trouble here. She’d barely gotten rid of Joel. In fact, Joel still refused to admit he’d been gotten rid of. It was way too soon to be falling for another man—and especially not a man like this. A man who was just too good to be true.

She pulled her hand free. He let it go.

There was an awkward, awful moment when she had no idea what to do next.

She glanced frantically out toward the water again, spotting a blue-and-white patio boat far off to starboard, past the mouth of the cove where they lay at anchor, and focusing on it to keep from looking at Rick. She squinted. The boat seemed to have two people aboard. She wished she was on it.

Anywhere but here, where she was having much too lovely a time for her own good—and where she kept doing and saying things she shouldn’t.

“Natalie?” His voice was so gentle.

“Umm?”

“Are you…all right?”

“Of course,” she lied.

She still didn’t have the nerve to look right at him, so she went on staring at the faraway boat, her entire body tingling with a thoroughly dangerous kind of awareness. And though she still couldn’t meet Rick’s eyes, she knew very well that they were trained on her face.

And it was hot. She shifted around again, because the backs of her legs were damp from the leather seat pad. And she raised her arms and lifted her hair off her neck. The air caressed her damp skin, cooling it a little.

Rick was leaning on the railing.

She dared to give him what she hoped was a very casual kind of smile. “It’s hot.”

He went on watching her. “Very.”

“Funny. When people think of Minnesota, they think of snow. But we have our summers, too.”

“We certainly do.”

She reached into the pocket of her shorts and found an elastic hair band, which she used to quickly tie her damp hair into a high ponytail. Then she straightened her shirt, which had pulled out a little when she lifted her arms. “Better,” she said, and forced herself to smile directly at him.

It was a mistake. In his eyes there was a look—a questioning, hopeful look. And though her mind kept saying, “No” to that look, the rest of her was shouting, “Yes!”

She should say something totally innocuous now, she knew it. But she couldn’t think of what.

So that meant he was the next to speak, and what he said wasn’t innocuous at all. “I’ve been…alone for a long time now.”

And then, with one or two glances at his sleeping son, he quietly began to tell her about his ex-wife, Vanessa Chandler, whom he’d met at a friend’s Christmas party and married a year later. He frankly confessed that he hadn’t put as much time and attention into the marriage as he should. He’d put so much energy into succeeding at work, there wasn’t a lot left over for his marriage. Vanessa had felt neglected.

And then, later, he hadn’t been much of a father to Toby. Vanessa had divorced him when Toby was only a year old, then moved back to Louisville, where her widowed mother lived, taking Toby with her. Visits with Toby had been few and far between. Vanessa would have been perfectly happy never to set eyes on Rick again, as long as he sent the support checks on time. And Rick had been so busy getting ahead that he didn’t pursue his parental responsibilities as he should.

“So now,” he said ruefully, “I’m trying to make it up to my son for all the times I wasn’t there for him.”

“I think you’re making a pretty good start.”

He muttered a thank-you, then asked, “What about you?”

“Was I ever married, you mean?”

“Yeah, for starters.”

She shook her head. “Never married.”

“What about ‘meaningful relationships’?”

And then, there she was, telling him about Joel, how she’d met him when she first started at Travistown School and how they’d been together for five years. That Joel had called it off between them about a month before. That she had been deeply hurt at first, but had gotten past that.

“And now, I’m planning to fully enjoy my freedom.”

“Hence the decadent extended cruise?”

“You got it. The cruise is my attempt to do something purely self-indulgent for once, something that has nothing to do with kids or dogs or other people’s emotional needs.”

Rick listened and nodded and seemed honestly interested in every word she had to say—which was probably why neither of them paid much attention when Toby rolled himself into a ball on the deck and stopped using Bernie for a pillow.

After that, Bernie sat and stretched and padded over to starboard, where he hefted his front paws onto the padded bench and stared at the patio boat that still drifted on the slow currents several hundred yards away.

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