Her vacation takes an unexpected turn

It’s a Fortune family reunion! Society sweetheart Georgia Fortune is excited to make the trip to Paseo, Texas, but a roadside calamity almost sidelines her. Luckily, Sheriff Paxton Price comes to her rescue. The handsome officer quickly causes a disturbance...to her peace of mind. The sparks are legit, but will they last? Can a blue-collar cop and a blue-blooded daddy’s girl really have a shot?

Though her name is frequently on bestseller lists, ALLISON LEIGH feels her high point as a writer is hearing from readers that they laughed, cried or lost sleep while reading her books. She credits her family with great patience for the time she’s parked at her computer, and for blessing her with the kind of love she wants her readers to share with the characters living in the pages of her books. Contact her at allisonleigh.com.

Also by Allison Leigh

A Weaver Proposal

A Weaver Vow

A Weaver Beginning

A Weaver Christmas Gift

One Night in Weaver…

The BFF Bride

A Child Under His Tree

Yuletide Baby Bargain

Show Me a Hero

The Rancher’s Christmas Promise

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

A Fortune’s Texas Reunion

Allison Leigh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09114-5

A FORTUNE’S TEXAS REUNION

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

How lucky was I to be born to my darling, talented

mother, who was beautiful inside and out?

She filled my life with joy

and made me so happy to be alive!

I love you, Mom.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The car was upside down, resting on its crumpled hood.

Sheriff Paxton Price was out of his departmental SUV and running down the steep embankment toward the site of the crash before he was even able to discern that particular fact.

The only indication there’d been an accident at all was the way the guardrail on the side of the road had been mangled.

“Ambulance needed, Connie,” he said into his shoulder mic, grabbing a spindly mesquite branch to keep it from slapping him in the face as his soles slid in the dirt. Twenty feet of prickly shrubs stood between him and the white car wedged against a gnarled snag.

If it wasn’t for the dying tree, the car would have kept on going.

“Not just Charlie’s wrecker. You got that, Connie? Send the ambulance, too.”

“Ambulance is over in Amber Falls.” Connie’s response crackled badly, but in the two years since he’d come back to Paseo, he was used to the crappy transmissions by now.

“Call ’em, anyway,” he barked. He wished to hell his brother Marshall didn’t have the day off. He was a paramedic with the Amber Falls Fire Department. The town was the closest of any size, which didn’t mean much when compared to tiny Paseo.

“On it...riff,” Connie said through the crackling and Pax grabbed another shrub as he continued skidding his way down the embankment. He needed to slow his momentum before he shot beyond the wedged car and into the ravine.

Dust clouded when he went down on his side like a kid sliding into home plate. Only this time, he wasn’t scoring a run for the Paseo High Panthers, but was avoiding slamming into the precariously perched sports car.

He succeeded, though barely. Adrenaline pumping, he tossed aside his cowboy hat and scrambled on his knees to the crumpled side of the car. The windshield was in the dirt and a dead tree branch bisected the back window. He’d seen too many vehicular fatalities back in Dallas, where there was emergency medical assistance available at the crook of a finger. Here in Paseo?

They had one ambulance covering an entire county. As Texas standards went, the county wasn’t large, but still...

“Come on, come on.” He ducked to look through the broken passenger-side window. It was the only one accessible. The driver’s side was squarely jammed against the trunk of the decaying oak.

His gut clenched. The driver was hanging upside down, held in her seat by the safety belt. Her light brown hair was long and tangled in the spent airbags, and glittered with shards of glass. She was young. And her eyes, her terrified and very much alive blue eyes, fastened on his. “Help.”

He read the word on her pallid lips more than heard it, and lifted a staying hand when she started to reach out one of hers. “Don’t move, honey. This big ol’ snag is sturdy, but I don’t want to take any chances. I’ll get you out. Just hang tight, okay?”

Tears were caught in her dark lashes, but her lips lifted ever so slightly. “Fine time for puns,” she whispered.

“Atta girl.” There was no way the door would open. He didn’t even bother trying. “Are you hurt?” Aside from the scrapes and scratches, he couldn’t see any blood. But the deflated airbags were blocking most of his view. “Can you move your legs?”

“I can wiggle my feet.”

“Excellent.” He knew she couldn’t have been hanging there for more than thirty minutes because he’d seen that guardrail perfectly intact when he’d cruised by it earlier. But thirty minutes or less was still thirty minutes or less too long.

And just because he couldn’t see serious bleeding didn’t mean there was none. She looked pale and limp and entirely helpless.

“Do you know how long you’ve been here like this?”

She made a sound that wasn’t much of an answer. Her eyelids fluttered and closed.

“Stay with me, honey.” With one sharp swipe of his Maglite, he cleared the rest of the window glass and tossed aside the jagged piece of dead tree branch that had shattered it. “Can you tell me what happened?”

She didn’t respond at first and he reached in, grasping one of her hands. “Come on, honey. Try to stay awake here. Talk to me.”

Her fingers moved. A slight squeeze. Enough to make him breathe a little easier. “I’m here.” The words sighed out of her. She had a drawl, but not a Texas one. It was more Deep South with a twist. “You have a nice...voice. I don’t know what happened.” She opened her eyes again, blinking as if to clear her vision. “One minute I was singing along with Lady Gaga and the next—” She broke off, then pulled her slender fingers free, lifted her hand and fluttered it along the gray shoulder strap pinning her against expensive white leather. “My seat belt’s stuck. I couldn’t get it loose.”

“Then it’s doing its job.” He pulled out of the window for a moment, grabbed his pocketknife and unbuckled his duty belt, letting it drop to the ground before he carefully reached through the window again with both arms and angled his shoulders so he could fit. “You from New Orleans?”

“Shows that much?”

The space wasn’t exactly built for a guy his size, but he’d been in tighter spots. “Louisiana license plate.” That and the distinct NOLA accent. “This your parents’ car?”

She seemed to rouse herself a little. “No, but Daddy’s gonna have a fit, anyway. He didn’t want me driving out here in the first place. Wanted to double-check every safety system this car has before I started out.”

There was a small R-Haz insignia on the dashboard. He hadn’t gotten a notice from the telematics company that her car was involved in an accident, so at least one of those safety systems had failed to do its job.

“Protective, is he?” He gained another inch.

“And then some. Ever since Savannah’s break-in he’s been worse than ever.”

“Who’s Savannah?”

“My little sister. One of them, anyway.”

“How many sisters do you have?” He’d managed to squeeze partially through the window but he still wasn’t far enough to reach her well.

“Uh, two. And a, uh, a bunch of brothers. I’m smack in the middle.”

“Middle-child syndrome?”

“Please.”

He smiled at the way she rolled her eyes. She was making good sense, and he hoped that meant she didn’t have a concussion. “I have three brothers myself,” he offered conversationally. “No sisters, though, to my mother’s everlasting disappointment.” He stretched his arm across the interior of the vehicle and snagged the tips of his fingers around the headrest of her seat, so he could use it for leverage to heave himself halfway into the vehicle. He managed not to swear a blue streak when he got up close and personal with the gearshift as a result.

“I’m gonna cut the belt and catch you, okay?” His voice was rougher than he wanted. He was a pickup-truck sort of guy over sports cars and the nauseating throbbing in his groin cemented the fact. He turned gingerly onto his side, earning another inch of leverage.

She visibly trembled. “Maybe we should wait for more help.”

“We could.” He exhaled again, blowing out his own pain as he concentrated on the alarm sharpening her dazed eyes. “It might be a while before help gets here, though, and I’d just as soon get you outta this little beast now. Not real comfortable for you hanging upside down, I’ll bet.”

She shook her head slightly. “No,” she whispered. “I was afraid nobody was coming.”

She looked like she was going to cry. “I’m here now,” he said steadily. “And I’ll stay right here with you until more help gets here. Can’t say I’m real comfortable with the position.”

Understatement of the year.

He looked into her eyes, willing her to keep her focus on him. “I’m Pax, by the way. I’m the sheriff around these parts.”

She gave him a barely perceptible smile. “Georgia,” she murmured.

Savannah and Georgia. He’d have teased her a little at that if not for the way her eyes had fluttered closed again. “Don’t pass out on me, Georgia.” He wrapped his fingers around her dangling arm, sliding down to her wrist where her pulse was fluttering.

“I’m not gonna pass out.” She managed to sound offended. “My head is pounding.”

“Expect you’ll have a lot of aches and pains. Considering everything, that’s not a bad thing right now.” It was awkward as hell, half inside the upside-down car and half out. At his angle, stretched the way he was against the headliner, the best he could do was let her land on him. The headrest of the passenger seat was digging into his ribs but at least it wasn’t endangering his prospects of siring kids one day. “So, unless you really insist on hanging there until backup arrives, I’m gonna cut the shoulder belt first, and then the lap. That all right with you?”

“I’ll fall.”

“I’ll catch you,” he promised. “Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Her lips compressed. She closed her eyes again and gave a faint nod.

Good enough for him.

He reached up and slid the sharp knife between her snug purple T-shirt and the shoulder belt, then sliced through the belt.

She gasped and her hands shot out, knocking against his head and shoulder. Several cubes of broken glass rained down on him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry. You’re good, Georgia. There isn’t going to be anything graceful about this. I told you I’ll catch you. Just keep your hand on my shoulder if you can, and—” He reached again and wedged his hand against the leather seat, snapping through the lap belt. The second he did, her body started to fall and he pressed his free palm against her stomach long enough to fold the knife safely out of the way.

Then she rolled down in a ball onto him, all long hair and trembling limbs.

The second she made contact with him, she burst into sobs and buried her face against his throat.

“It’s okay, honey.” He gently patted her back. She really was no bigger than a minute. “You’re gonna be fine.” He’d feel better about that assurance once she was actually checked out, but for now, she was lucid and showing the kind of normal reaction he’d expect. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Eventually, her sobs quieted. Her trembling settled. She finally lifted her head, and her eyes met his. “You saved me.”

Discomfort that had nothing to do with gearshifts and awkward positions chugged inside his gut. She was a looker. No amount of puffy, red eyes could disguise that fact. He hadn’t felt such a visceral attraction to a woman since Whitney.

Which was a good reminder to keep his mind where it belonged.

“German engineering and advanced safety systems saved you,” he said gruffly. “Think you can slide out the window?”

She angled her head, looking toward his legs still hanging outside from the knees on. She gave him a shaky smile. “In some places we’d need to be married before being this close. You’d better go first.”

She didn’t give him a chance to argue the matter, because she was busy wriggling to one side of him. Doing so meant pressing her hand against his chest to gain enough leverage and he hoped she blamed his thumping heartbeat on adrenaline.

He’d been a cop for eight years. A sheriff for nearly two. After what happened with Whitney in Dallas, he was too smart to let himself be derailed again by a pretty set of blue eyes.

Still, it was a relief when Georgia was finally curled alongside him rather than sprawled over him, and he worked his way back out the window. First his leather belt caught on something, and then his shirt tore as he awkwardly got one shoulder, then the other, through the bent window frame.

Finally, though, he was on his knees again in the dirt and he reached back in to her. “It might be easier for you if you come out headfirst.”

She nodded and, far more deftly than he could have done, pivoted on the rear of her white shorts, then shimmied out the window. She was narrow. Slender. He had no trouble whatsoever catching her shoulders the second they cleared the metal and he lifted her free of the wreckage, moving her to the patch of dirt that had been scraped raw by the car.

She exhaled, and slowly fell backward until she was sprawled flat on her back. She pressed her hand to her chest and stared up at the sky. Tears slid from her eyes down into her hair.

He crouched beside her. “I’m just gonna check your arms and legs, Georgia. That all right with you?”

She sniffed wetly and nodded.

“You tell me if anything hurts.”

“Everything hurts,” she mumbled. “I’ve never been in an accident before.”

“You started out with a doozy.” He carefully worked his hands along her arms. She had a nasty scrape on her left shoulder and a small cut on her right wrist, but other than that, her skin was smooth and cool. A little too cool for the hot day, but she’d had a nasty shock. He moved to her feet and started at her ankles. More scrapes. More scratches. But no bones sticking out where they didn’t belong. Nothing that was starting to swell.

He was doing his duty, but he’d have had to have been dead not to appreciate the way she felt. And because of that fact, he wondered if it was time he gave Mindy a call. She was a teacher in Amber Falls he’d seen off and on over the last six months. No more interested in anything serious than he was.

He realized he’d reached Georgia’s knees and quickly moved his hands away, sitting back on his heels.

“You were lucky that snag caught your car and you were wearing your seat belt. You have some ID in the car?”

“Of course.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

Her eyes followed his hand. “Three. I can see perfectly clearly,” she promised tiredly.

“Do you think you lost consciousness at any point?”

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t even driving that fast.”

“Wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that.” He’d be a wealthy man and his mom wouldn’t have had to rent out the north section of land to an infamous billionaire just to keep the bank from taking it back.

“I wasn’t,” she insisted.

“Okay, NOLA girl,” he soothed, because she was obviously going to get worked up. “Just rest there for a few minutes.”

She didn’t argue. Merely threaded her fingers through her hair and shook away pieces of glass still clinging there.

He left Georgia long enough to retrieve his duty belt and fastened it around his hips again. He fingered the tear in his uniform shirt as he attached his shoulder mic and called in their status to Connie. He had to provide his own uniforms and he didn’t think there’d be any way to fix this particular tear.

“Ambulance freed up,” Connie reported back. “Should be there soon.”

“Thanks, Con.” He looked away from Georgia, who was still lying on the ground. She’d spread her arms wide and was alternately lifting one leg, which looked just as perfect as it had felt, then the other, and flexing her bare feet around in circles.

Her toes were painted a brilliant purple that matched the T-shirt that had crept up her stomach to reveal the low-cut waistband of her white shorts. They were diminutive, those shorts. Revealing both the small, thin gold hoop piercing in her navel as well as the sleek muscles in her thighs as she worked her legs.

He scooped up his hat and slapped it against his thigh a few times to shake off the dirt, then slid it on his head as he walked around the vehicle, taking pictures with the small digital camera from his duty belt. The only angle he couldn’t get to was the north side of the car, because he’d have to climb into the ravine to get it.

He went back up the hill, taking pictures of the path the car had taken as it rolled down. He took pictures of the spot it had left the road—obvious only because of the safety guard along the curve that had been torn away. He took a few measurements and made note of them to add to his report later, then returned to Georgia and handed her the sandals he’d found tossed clear of the car about twenty feet away. If she hadn’t been wearing her seat belt, it could have been her body tossed aside, too.

“You were lucky all the way around,” he told her. “Two feet to the right or left of the tree and we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.” He watched her slide on the shoes as she sat up. They were patterned flip-flops with thick foamy-looking rubber soles that added a good three inches to her height when she gingerly rolled to her feet. They also had a designer label that even a good ol’ boy like him could recognize.

The shoes didn’t mean she had money. But the expensive car that cost more than what he earned in a year sure did suggest it.

“Going to need to take a report of what happened, if you’re up to it.”

She brushed the dirt off the seat of her shorts and raked her fingers through her long hair, pushing it behind her shoulders. “Happy to cooperate, if I could even tell you what happened.” She looked up the embankment, where his SUV sat, red lights flashing, and he saw her sway.

He quickly caught her beneath her arm. “Steady there, ma’am.”

She pressed her hand to her head. “I preferred ‘NOLA girl,’” she murmured. “Doesn’t remind me how close I am to my thirtieth birthday.”

“And how close is that?”

She wrinkled her nose as she dropped her hand. “’Bout eighteen months.”

At least he knew she wasn’t a teenager.

He nodded toward the SUV. “Let’s get you up to the truck and you can sit down and get outta the heat.”

“Heat here is nothing compared to the hot soup we have back home.” She looked over her shoulder at the wrecked vehicle. “Nothing about that looks fixable to me.”

“No, ma’am.”

Her lips turned down. “I just got it, too. Picked it up yesterday morning before I left town. It drove perfectly all the way to Shreveport. I stayed the night there, then started out again this morning.” She sighed audibly, then turned toward the embankment, taking a first step. He let go of her, but hung behind to lend a hand the second she looked in need of it.

Unfortunately, that meant he had a close-up view of her hind end as they progressed up the steep hill.

Only a few sliding steps in those platform sandals, though, and Pax took her arm again. One rescue a day was enough.

Before they made it to the top, he saw Charlie Esparza pulling up in his wrecker. Pax waved at the skinny man when he nimbly hopped down from the truck. Without waiting, Charlie started skidding down the hill toward them. “Bad spot t’go off,” he said breathlessly. “No skidding, either.” He lifted his cap long enough to reveal his white hair, then took Georgia’s other arm. He was barely taller than her. “Any more vics?”

Pax shook his head and soon the three of them were safely back on the roadside. He settled Georgia in the back seat of his SUV with the AC running and a fresh bottle of water. He left the door open, though, not wanting her to feel like he’d taken her into custody.

For one, she hadn’t done anything wrong that he could determine. He’d smelled no alcohol on her. There was no evidence of drugs. In fact, there was no evidence of anything to explain why she’d careened off the highway without seeming to make any attempt at avoiding it.

As Charlie had observed, no skid. Meaning no braking.

While Charlie headed back down to the wreckage dragging his long winch cable with him, Pax checked in with Connie again. The ambulance was still en route. He pulled out his metal clipboard and flipped it open to fish a blank report from the contents inside, and leaned against the side of the SUV next to the opened door. He kept his focus on the form, even though the sight of Georgia’s bare legs beckoned. His fingers tingled and he clicked his pen a few times.

“You say you just picked up the car yesterday? Is it a rental?” If it was, it was a pretty specialized one.

“No, it’s mine.” Her fingers turned the water bottle this way and that. “First sports car I’ve ever owned. My purse is still in the car. My license. The registration. And my suitcase—”

“We’ll take care of that once Charlie pulls the car up. Where were you heading? Paseo’s not usually a person’s final destination. Too small. Not enough services. I can help you get to Amber Falls, though. Is there someone I can contact for you? Parents? Boyfriend?”

She bit her lip, looking in danger of crying again. “I was heading for Paseo, though. In fact, I was looking for the turnoff when—” She broke off, swallowing. She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “My, uh, my oldest brother, Austin, is the best one to contact. He’s here with Felicity. His girlfriend. She’s lovely and actually is lightening up my brother. He’s way too serious, and...” She trailed off as if realizing she’d been rambling.

To a person, Pax knew everyone in town. The only Austin he knew of didn’t have a girlfriend and definitely wasn’t too serious. In fact, just last month he’d celebrated his third birthday with a party at Rosa’s Mexican restaurant. Pax had stopped in to say hello because he’d been filling his gas tank at the pumps in front of the restaurant, which also doubled as a grocery store. “What’s your brother’s last name?”

Her blue eyes peered at him from behind her wrist. “Fortune.”

Pax exhaled, stifling a curse.

Naturally, it would be Fortune.

He’d grown up in Paseo. Aside from the years he’d spent in Dallas, he’d lived here his entire life. And until a week ago, the only Fortunes he’d personally known were Jayden, Nathan and Grayson. And their mom, Deborah. Good, normal folk who’d had no connection at all to the famous Fortunes that made their homes elsewhere in the state.

Or so he’d thought.

Now, since Deborah was getting hitched to that eccentric billionaire who was connected and also happened to be the father of Deborah’s three sons, the area was overrun with all manner of people bearing that particular name.

And his peaceful little town had been turned upside down as a result. They’d filled up the little motel. And when that wasn’t enough, they’d set up a camp on his mom’s piece of land.

People like his mom and Rosa Hernandez, who had her whole family helping her provide enough food to feed the crowd at the makeshift campground, were benefiting financially, but Pax found it all a headache.

He clicked his pen a few times. “I should’ve known when I saw the make of the car,” he muttered. In the last few days, there’d been more luxury vehicles traveling this small stretch of highway than in the last decade. Before that, it had been semis and buses transporting all manner of things to his little spot of paradise.

What was usually his haven had turned into the worst kind of circus. Paseo. The newest playground for the rich and famous.

Which now included the NOLA girl.

Steeling himself against her appeal, he tapped the business end of his pen noisily against the form and its metal-backed board. “All right, then. Let’s get to it. Full name and date of birth—”

Chapter Two

Georgia shivered as she stared at Pax, wondering where his gentle demeanor had disappeared to. The man who’d pulled her from the wreckage had made her feel safe. When he’d wrapped his arms around her, the blinding terror she’d felt had slid away.

A reaction to the situation? Undoubtedly. But she’d never ever forget that incalculable sense of pure and utter safety.

“Full name, ma’am,” he repeated brusquely.

Her rescuer still looked exactly the same. Except his eyes were no longer a soft, mossy sort of green filled with warmth and kindness. They were more like hard chips of emerald. Had turned that way the second she’d said the name Fortune.

He was the sheriff. He’d told her so, even though it said the word plainly enough on the gold badge pinned to the front of his torn khaki shirt.

“Georgia Mae Fortune,” she recited slowly.

“You’re one of those Fortunes, then.” The sheriff’s tone was even, but there was no question that he didn’t think very highly of “those Fortunes.”

Her nerves were too raw and she couldn’t help bristling. “I don’t know which Fortunes you’ve got a beef with, but my family comes from New Orleans. We just learned this year that we have a tie with the folks from around here. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“From what I’ve heard, your family has more branches on its tree than Carter’s got pills, and a scandal for every single one.”

“What bothers you more? The branches or the scandals?”

“The money you toss around like confetti. Date of birth?” His voice was clipped, too.

“January 1. And I don’t toss around money.”

“You bought that fancy car, didn’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Year?” He arched an absurdly handsome eyebrow, considering how much dirt was caked on it. His hair had clumps on it, too, obscuring the dark strands. If he had any gray, she couldn’t tell. Not that it would detract from his looks. Men were always lucky that way.

She, on the other hand, had discovered a gray hair earlier that year. She’d promptly visited her hairstylist, who’d laughed it off and masterfully hid the culprit in a subtle weave of lighter shades of blond among her brown.

“Still waiting, ma’am,” the sheriff prompted.

She wanted to bare her teeth at him. She grudgingly supplied her birth year.

“Thirty’s not the end of the world.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the car, which was now being dragged up the hill by the heavy metal cable that the tow-truck driver had fastened to it. “Be glad that you’re going to be alive to see it when the day actually rolls around in a year and a half,” he reminded her flatly.

She shivered again, harder this time, and water spurted from the top of the bottle, splashing on her knee.

She felt his gaze follow and shivered even more.

Whether he disapproved of the Fortunes or not, she recognized interest in a man’s eyes when she saw it.

He didn’t wear a wedding ring. But then she knew plenty of men who didn’t. She’d even dated one for a few weeks before discovering he had a wife and a newborn baby waiting devotedly back home.

When Georgia had found out, she’d given the guy a blistering earful, along with the boot. And been glad that she hadn’t shared anything more intimate with him than crème brûlée. She certainly wasn’t looking for a husband, but she still had her standards when it came to the occasional fling.

It just had been a while since she’d been...flung.

“Address?”

She rattled off the address of her town house in New Orleans.

How was she going to explain this to her parents? Neither Miles nor Sarah was a fan of her visit to Paseo. It was bad enough that her siblings were attending, too, but Georgia had traveled alone, and these days, her dad was feeling hypersensitive about things.

“You are here for this wedding business, I take it. Deb Fortune and Gerald Robinson?”

Her chin came up again at the sheriff’s disapproving tone. She wondered what he’d think if she told him that Gerald was her newfound uncle. “What if I am? The wedding festivities run for the next two weeks. Instead of turning up your nose at the confetti, I’d think the people of Paseo would be grateful for all of the business being brought to the area!”

His lips twisted. “Area’s done fine for years without all the hassle you beautiful people bring with you.”

“I won’t mistake that as a compliment.”

“Smart. Not smart enough to keep that expensive car of yours on the road, though. Assuming you weren’t trying to kill yourself, what had you so preoccupied? Looking at your phone? Taking a selfie to post on some social-media thing?”

Her jaw loosened. She wasn’t ordinarily stuck for words, but she was now. Instead of telling him exactly what she thought of his judgmental attitude, all she could do was stare at him.

And he didn’t even bat an emerald eye.

“Well? I’ll know eventually what you were doing with your cell phone, honey, so it’d be better to tell me up front than try to lie.”

“I wasn’t doing anything with my cell phone,” she said through her teeth.

“Not checking directions, or calling your boyfriend—”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Not that that’s any of your business, either.”

“It’s my business to understand why you went off the road in my county.”

He glanced over as the tow truck’s winch whined loudly and the cable went taut. Then he turned back and focused on his form.

She wasn’t sure what grated on her nerves more—the squeal of her car being dragged up the hill, or the way the sheriff tapped the point of his pen against the metal clipboard.

“So you were distracted and looking for a turnoff—”

“I never said I was distracted,” she snapped, which just made her head pound even more. “You did. But yes, I was keeping an eye out for a turnoff. Mile post twelve, as a matter of fact. It must be near here.”

Those emerald chips drifted over her face. “About half a mile up the road. The highway curves here a little, but not sharply. It’s easy to see approaching vehicles if you’re paying attention.”

“There weren’t any other vehicles.”

“Are you sure you were paying attention?”

“Yes! I have a perfect driving record.”

His lips twisted. “Something that can easily be bought, particularly by those who can afford to trash a car like yours.”

“I didn’t intentionally trash it,” she said through her teeth, “and I have never needed to buy my way out of anything!”

He wasn’t moved. “No signs of skidding. You said you were singing with the radio?”

“Don’t try and tell me that’s against the law.”

“If you were speeding—”

“I wasn’t.”

“—that might explain the distance the car seemed to travel aloft before it impacted the ground.”

She felt her stomach suddenly lurch and she jumped down from the SUV, running through the weeds on the shoulder of the road until she reached the guardrail and lost her lunch over the other side.

When she was finished, she didn’t have enough energy left to do anything but hang her arms over the hard, hot metal.

“Here.”

She wanted the ground to swallow her up. Spinning anything to a positive slant was her stock-in-trade, but there was just no positive way to spin throwing up on the side of the road.

She took the bottle of water from Pax. Ignoring him, she took a swig, swirled it in her mouth and spit it out.

Several yards away, her car crested the edge of the road and the horrible whining finally came to a stop. The short tow-truck driver began pushing levers on the side of his truck and the back of it began tilting down toward the ground.

“I wasn’t speeding,” she told the sheriff when she thought she could speak without vomiting again. “I wasn’t texting on my cell.” She had no idea if her phone had remained inside the car. But he definitely hadn’t found it when he’d been traipsing all over taking his pictures. She felt certain he’d be examining it for God knew what if he had.

“My whole life is on my phone,” she said, more to herself than to him. “If it’s not still in the car—” She broke off, shaking her head.

“Nobody’s whole life should be on a cell phone,” the sheriff said dismissively before he walked away from her, heading toward the wrecker. She could see him talking into that small speaker thing attached by a strap to his shoulder as he went.

She made a face at the back of him. It was childish but it still made her feel a tiny bit better. Leaning against the rail, she sipped the water and studied him as he spoke with the driver. Charlie, he’d called him.

Unlike Charlie, the sheriff was tall. Her brothers were tall, too, so it was easy enough to peg the man as several inches past six feet. Her brothers tended more toward wiry builds, though. The sheriff was stockier. Broader. Not heavy. More like a quarterback than a runner. All broad shoulders, narrow hips and muscular—

Her mouth felt cottony and she swished more water around, turning to spit it out again.

When she straightened, he was approaching her again. It was easier to focus on the tear in his shirt than it was his face, with its square jaw and slashing eyebrows.

“Here.” He extended a small pink purse and she snatched it greedily, flipping it open to find her wallet still tucked safely inside.

She extracted her driver’s license and held it up. “Check me out,” she challenged. “You’ll learn I do have a perfect driving record. I have a respectable job with Fortune Investments as the director of public relations. I own my own home and I have never gotten so much as a ticket for jaywalking!” She slid a business card free as well and barely managed to keep from tossing it in his face. “My cell phone number is on there. You want to know what I was doing on my phone for the last twenty-four hours, feel free to contact my provider. I’ll agree to whatever you need.”

His fingers brushed hers as he took the license. “Charlie was able to get into your glove compartment, if I have your permission to look at the contents.”

Oh, for crying out loud. She rubbed her aching temples. “Yes, you can look at the contents. I’ve been trying to tell you I don’t have anything to hide.”

He walked back to the wrecker again.

Her eyes burned and she swiped her nose. She was not going to cry again.

Her purse might have contained her wallet and a few business cards, but there was little else in it, and certainly not her phone. She closed her eyes, trying to remember where it had been in the car. Lying on the passenger seat with her sandals? Tucked in the console?

Her stomach churned as she tried to think. She’d taken one call that morning from her assistant, Julie, about the media campaign they were launching. After that, her phone had remained silent as she’d neared Paseo and the campground where the wedding guests were being lodged.

The campground was one of the selling points she’d used with her folks when she’d told them that she, too, wanted to attend the wedding, along with her siblings. In Georgia’s case, not only was she attending the nuptials, but she was also actually going to stand up in the wedding party. Even though none of them had ever even met the bride or groom.

That fact was only one of the interesting aspects of this whole wedding business. It was Gerald and Deborah’s desire to bring together all the branches of the overgrown Fortune tree. They were showing it again and again with the incredible task of mounting a large wedding in such a small town. Once they’d known Georgia and her brothers and sisters were coming—even though their father flatly refused—they’d asked if one of them would be part of the wedding party. They wanted someone from each family to be represented.

Georgia had basically drawn the short straw at that point because—as her sisters Savannah and Belle liked to point out—Georgia had the most practice at being a bridesmaid.

Nineteen times, in fact.

For her dad’s sake, she’d pitched the whole thing as a lark. A summer getaway, camping under the Texas sky for a few weeks before the launch of the new campaign. For herself, she’d mostly thought it would be highly entertaining to be part of the wedding for a man who was actually her father’s half brother.

Of course, her father didn’t believe anything about the situation was the least bit entertaining. He certainly didn’t appreciate the fact that he might be somewhat similar to his half brother. Gerald Robinson of Texas had been born Jerome Fortune of New York. It was only after his father, Julius, died that he’d remade himself as Gerald, far, far away from his true family. He’d even gone so far as to fake “Jerome’s” death, presumably to be good and sure nobody came looking for him.

Georgia’s father, Miles, on the other hand, had been born Miles Melton in Louisiana. He was just one of Julius’s illegitimate sons with various women other than his wife. Aside from her father, there were at least three more that she knew of: Kenneth Fortunado, who hailed from Houston, David Fortune from Florida and Gary Fortune from New York. Other than those few details, she had no real knowledge of the relationships—or lack of—that they’d had with Julius while he’d been alive.

As for her dad, when he’d finally divulged the truth last Christmas to his family that they were, in fact, related to the famous Fortunes after all—something he had been denying all of Georgia’s life—he’d admitted that he’d only taken on his father’s name when he’d been a young college graduate as an “up yours” against the man who’d never acknowledged him.

The similarities between Miles and Julius ended there, though.

Miles had married Georgia’s mom when he was only a year older than Georgia was now. They’d had seven children together and were the only truly happy couple Georgia had ever seen.

Gerald, on the other hand, had inherited Julius’s penchant for infidelity. For the last few years especially, the scandal sheets had chronicled the tech mogul’s indiscretions. How he’d cheated on his society wife, Charlotte. How he’d produced even more illegitimate children than Julius had.

Then, when the news had broken a couple years ago about Robinson’s real identity, the media hounds had gone into a feeding frenzy. It would have died down eventually. When a fresher scandal hit the light of day. That’s the way scandals always worked.

But the flames were fueled all over again by Gerald and Charlotte’s highly acrimonious divorce when word got out that he’d actually dumped her in favor of marrying his first love, Deborah Fortune, who wasn’t really a Fortune at all, but had assumed the name herself when she’d given birth to Gerald’s triplet sons nearly forty years ago. Before Gerald had even married Charlotte.

It was either the worst of reality-television-style trashiness, or the most outlandishly romantic story in modern-day history.

Georgia, nineteen times a bridesmaid, didn’t expect that Gerald’s marriage to Deborah would be any more successful than his first one. But she definitely expected the whole scene to be pretty entertaining.

Particularly since she had a not-so-private fascination with reality TV.

Plus, she came from a family of seven kids but had never had cousins. Now that she knew that she did, she was unabashedly curious to meet them.

So, with a brand-new car she’d worked hard to buy and a chance for the first vacation she’d taken in years, what else was a girl to do but plan a road trip?

It was all perfect.

In planning, at least.

Reality had turned out to be something entirely different.

The winch was whining again and she realized her car—what was left of it—was being pulled onto the back of the tow truck.

She pushed away from the guardrail and hurried toward the two men standing beside the vehicle. “What about the rest of my stuff? My suitcase is in the trunk.”

“Only thing I could get at was this, miss.” The short man wiped a greasy hand on the front of his overalls before he handed her the small overnighter. “It’ll take more equipment than I’ve got here to get that trunk open. Don’t you worry none, though. Once I do, I’ll get your stuff to you wherever you’re at.”

She clutched the overnighter against her. It held her toiletries and not much more. Except for the yoga gear she’d tossed in it that morning, all of her clothes were inside the suitcase.

She felt shaky all over again.

The sheriff must have noticed because he wrapped his hand around her arm. “You need to sit down again.”

She preferred the weedy highway shoulder than the back of his SUV, but she never had the chance to tell him, because an ambulance pulled up then. The sheriff turned her over to the two people who hopped out of the boxy white vehicle. One male. One female. Both young and harried-looking, though they didn’t act it as they took charge of Georgia and settled her on the wide back bumper. They introduced themselves. Sean and Sarah.

“My mother’s name is Sarah,” she told them faintly and closed her eyes again, resting her head on the vehicle behind her. She answered their questions while they tended to her cuts and scrapes and produced a cold pack that she pressed against her forehead.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she heard a familiar voice calling her name.

She looked up to see her brother Austin jogging toward her. He was the oldest of her siblings and she always teased him that he’d come out of the womb wearing a suit and tie.

But now, he wore a T-shirt and blue jeans, his dark hair looked like it had been combed with a garden rake and even from a distance she could see the concern in his brown eyes.

No amount of willpower kept her tears away then.

She dropped the ice pack and ran into his arms. It was comforting. Familiar. And if she’d never felt that utter sense of security in the sheriff’s embrace, she never would have known it wasn’t there in her own brother’s.

“Damn,” he muttered as he took in the mangled mess of her vehicle. “What the hell happened, Georgia?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t know, Austin. I was driving along, everything was fine and then bam! Everything was out of my control. I couldn’t steer, I couldn’t brake and I was crashing through the guardrail and—” She closed her eyes against the terrifying memory of the engine suddenly screaming, then turning quiet as she soared over brush and through trees, turning in one long, slow somersault—

She realized she was sweating and dug the heels of her palms against her closed eyes until the images faded. “All I could think was that Daddy was right.” She finally dropped her hands and looked up at him. “I should have gone on the family plane with the rest of you. I should have stuck with my old car—it was perfectly good—instead of spending a fortune on a sports car like that—”

He exhaled an oath and kissed her temple. “Stop. You’d been waiting months for that car. Accidents happen. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I want to get away from here.”

“Felicity’s waiting at the campground,” he said. “She’s making sure the travel trailer you’ll be using is all set for you.”

“How did you know what happened?” When she’d set up her emergency account with the car dealer, she’d listed him as the person to contact.

“The sheriff’s office sent someone out to the campground to find me.”

She rubbed her temples. “You didn’t get a text or some automatic notice from R-Haz that my vehicle was in an accident?”

“Nope.”

She looked around her brother at the man in question, only to see that he was heading their way. “Watch out,” she warned Austin. “He might have rescued me from my car, but he’s got a beef against ‘those Fortunes.’” She air-quoted the term.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

She spread her hands wordlessly.

Pax stopped a few feet away. “You’re the brother? Austin?”

“I am.” Austin kept an arm protectively around Georgia’s shoulder but extended his other. “Austin Fortune. I appreciate what you did for my sister. She says you pulled her out of that.” He nodded toward the mangled vehicle now fixed in place atop the flatbed. Charlie had a broom and a bucket and was sweeping up debris where she’d gone through the rail.

The dusty brim of the sheriff’s hat cast most of his face in shadow, but Georgia still felt his gaze roving over her as he briefly shook her brother’s hand. “Sheriff Price. I’m glad she wasn’t hurt more badly than she was. And that nobody else was involved. I’m not issuing a citation, since she didn’t commit any offenses—”

“Big of you.”

He ignored her. “That could change if under the course of investigation new information comes to light.” He was still holding his boxy metal clipboard and he slid a business card free, handing it to Georgia.

She automatically took it, annoyed with the way she shivered when her fingertips brushed his. “There isn’t any new information,” she assured him. She glanced down at the card.

“That’s Charlie’s card,” he said, pointing out what she’d just realized.

Why had she thought he might want her to have his number?

Thankfully unaware of her thoughts, he was continuing. “You’ll want to arrange things with him when it comes to getting the rest of your personal belongings. And you’ll want to keep the accident report when you deal with your auto-insurance folks. If you want Charlie to contact them for you, I can tell him to go ahead. Don’t know if they’ll want to send someone to see the vehicle in person or not. It’s a given it’ll be totaled, though.” He tore off a carbon copy of the report he’d made and folded it in thirds before extending it.

“Since my phone is MIA, I’d appreciate him making that call.” She plucked the report from his grasp. No shivers, no way, no, ma’am.

“She can come with me now?” her brother asked.

“Address of the urgent care in Amber Falls is on the back of the report. Might want to get her checked out for good measure. But as long as she’s got clearance from Sean and Sarah, I’ve got no reason to keep her.”

At the mention of their names, Sean waved a thumbs-up. “She’s good, Sheriff. Lucky as hell, that’s for sure.”

Which was what Georgia needed to remember.

“Let me get the air-conditioning going in the SUV,” Austin told her. “Then we’ll get you out of here.” He squeezed her shoulder gently before jogging across the highway.

She looked toward the sheriff.

No matter how his attitude had changed when he’d learned she was a member of the Fortune family, he had saved her from the car.

She stuck out her own hand. “Thank you for your help, Pax.” She wasn’t sure what devil made her use his name. Maybe the same devil that made her curious to see the circus that the coming wedding was sure to be.

But the devil got more than she bargained for when Pax tapped his thumb against his hat brim and pushed it up an inch before he slowly closed his hand around hers. His fingers were long, his palm warm. “Glad to be of service—” he waited half a beat “—Georgia.”

Something in her chest went tight. His emerald eyes were once again soft and warm and vaguely mossy.

She moistened her lips and slowly pulled her hand away.

It was probably a good thing that he was biased against people with her last name. Everything else about him would just make for complications.

She preferred short, simple and uncomplicated.

Moistening her lips again, she grabbed her little purse and overnighter from where they sat on the ground near the ambulance.

Aside from it, the tow truck and the sheriff’s SUV, there was only one other vehicle sitting on the side of the road, and Georgia immediately started to cross the road toward it.

“Whoa, there.” A hand grabbed her arm, hauling her up short, and she jerked, looking up at Pax.

Her heart simply thudded. That’s all there was to it. And it had nothing to do with the car accident. It was all him.

“Better watch where you’re going,” he said mildly, and she realized that a fast-moving car was approaching.

It slowed only minimally as it passed them, and only when it was gone again did Pax let go of her arm.

She hugged her meager belongings to her chest. “You’re right. I had better watch where I’m going.” Then she finally managed to pull her eyes away from his and she jogged across the once-again empty two-lane highway to her brother’s rented SUV.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.