Fortune's Legacy

Her nerves were stretched tight and every breath felt like an Olympic event. She couldn’t take much more of this. Plus, Garrett had been acting differently the last couple of days, too. He’d come out of his office and strolled through the division often enough to start making other people nervous. All of a sudden he was paying attention. Talking to people. Listening to people.

And none of that could be good.

There was something else going on here. Something he was planning.

She just wished she knew what it was.

“You’re thinking again,” Isa said, reaching across the table to slap Kyra’s shoulder. “Cut it out.”

“Okay, okay.” Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, blew it out and said, “You’re right. No more thinking about Garrett Wolff. No more thinking about work. What’s the point, right?”

“Right.”

“I mean, if I’m going to be fired, thinking about it won’t change anything, right?”

“Right.” Isa nodded and gave her an encouraging grin.

“And if I’m living out of a shopping cart by this time next month, I’ll survive, right?”

Isa laughed outright. “You really should have gone for a drama degree instead of business.”

“Fine, fine.” She picked up her margarita for another sip, then smiled as she set it down. “No drama. No thinking.”

“Atta girl.”

Across the room, the band launched into a fast-paced song with a pounding, staccato rhythm that had even Kyra’s toes tapping.

“Come on,” Isa said, standing up and grinning. “It’s a line dance. Let’s go.”

She thought about it for a second or two. She hadn’t been in the mood for company tonight. Hadn’t wanted to come out and join the world. She’d wanted nothing more than to curl up in the dark quiet of her condo and concentrate on the misery being heaped on her.

But now that she was here, the world was looking a little friendlier. She wasn’t sure if it was Isa’s influence or the margarita, but whatever it was, it beat the heck out of sitting home alone, brooding.

Jumping to her feet, Kyra said, “Good idea.” If she was dancing, she wouldn’t be thinking. And right now that sounded like a plan.

She followed Isa through the crowd and took her place in the long line of dancers already moving through an intricate ten-step routine. Kyra swung her hair out of her eyes, laughed aloud and slid into the moves with practiced ease, letting go of everything in the sheer enjoyment of the music washing over her.

Boots stomped against the floor, hands clapped, dancers shouted and the band played faster, challenging them all to increase the pace.

Garrett stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched Kyra move. And damn, the woman had some great moves.

She wore a long-sleeved, red silk blouse, dark blue jeans that clung to her shapely legs like a lover’s hands, and shiny black boots. Her hips swayed with the beat and her feet flew, keeping up with the complicated steps of the dance. He watched her toss her head back and laugh, and he was caught by the way her eyes shone and her whole face lit up with pleasure.

He’d never seen Kyra like this.

Always, at the office, she was the career-committed female, on the way up. She was good at her job and concentrated on the work. She was usually pleasant, always efficient and completely annoying. And still he’d noticed her.

Hadn’t wanted to, but how could he have helped it? Any man would have been drawn to the scent of her. The look of her, softly feminine in slacks and jackets that looked as if they’d been designed especially for her.

At Voltage, she was an irritant who touched him in ways he didn’t like to think about.

But here at Rio’s she was someone else entirely. And something inside him tightened into a knot of hunger so raw, so strong, it surprised even him.

He’d only dropped by the club to see the owner, an old friend from college. But he’d been trapped there the moment he saw Kyra headed for the dance floor.

As the song ended, the band jumped quickly into another, not wanting to lose the crowd up dancing. Kyra and the dark-haired woman she was talking to automatically started moving again, keeping their places in the long line of dancers.

And almost before Garrett knew it, he was stepping up beside the tall blonde with the beautiful eyes.

She laughed, spun, kicked her right heel, then looked up at him, and all semblance of joy drained from her face. Her shining eyes went flat and cool and suspicious.

He was surprised to realize he didn’t like the fact she was so upset at running into him.

“Ms. Fortune,” he said, speaking loud enough to be heard over the band.

“Mr. Wolff,” she muttered, then started backing off the floor.

Damn it. She couldn’t get away fast enough. He never should have talked to her. Should have just left. But how the hell could he have done that after seeing her smile? Laugh? Dance? “Going somewhere?” he asked.

“I’m tired.”

“You don’t look tired.” Just eager to escape.

She blew out a disgusted breath that ruffled the fringe of bangs on her forehead. “You know, we’re not at the office. I don’t have to talk to you.”

That stung. And that fact, too, surprised the hell out of him. He scrubbed the back of his neck. “We’re not at the office, so why don’t you drop the attitude?”

Her head snapped back and her blue-green eyes shot sparks. “If you don’t like my attitude, why are you talking to me?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he muttered, though at the moment he was having a hard time remembering just why he’d followed his instinct to approach her. Then his gaze dropped, and he looked her up and down slowly, and he remembered.

This was a different Kyra from the one he knew, and damned if she didn’t appeal to him on all sorts of levels.

Another dancer bumped into her, and Garrett reached out to steady her. At the slight contact, heat swept up his arm and ricocheted around his chest. She sucked in a breath and shook herself loose from his grasp. But her eyes glistened and her face was flushed.

“Kyra,” the pretty brunette shouted from close by. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She waved a hand at her friend, then shifted her gaze back to Garrett. “If you’ll excuse me—”

She was leaving, and suddenly he didn’t want her to go. “Not afraid, are you?”

She stiffened and he could almost see her temper spike.

“Of you?”

“That’s the question.”

She snorted. “Hardly.”

“Then stay,” he said, holding out one hand. “Dance.”

She looked from his eyes to his hand and back again. “Why should I?”

He shrugged. “Music’s too good to waste?”

Her lips twitched and she looked at him with something a little closer to curiosity than animosity.

“Good point.”

“And hey,” he said, pushing the small advantage he seemed to have, “there’s always the chance that you’ll dance me into the ground.”

“There is that.”

“A small chance.”

“We’ll see about that.” She grabbed his hand and let him pull her back onto the dance floor. Then she took her place in line and fell into the steps of the dance as if it was instinctive.

Garrett couldn’t keep up.

But then, it was hard to remember dance steps when your gaze was locked on a particular woman’s behind and how it swayed in time to the music. Every cell in his body felt as if it were boiling. He didn’t care about the damn dance. He’d only wanted to prolong this moment with Kyra. There was something about her. Something that was beginning to resonate inside him. Something he really didn’t want to examine too closely.

Kyra stumbled slightly, but caught herself quickly and hoped no one else had noticed. She felt clumsy, awkward.

And it was all Garrett Wolff’s fault.

He’d surprised her, showing up at Rio’s.

Astonished her by wanting to dance.

And was now busy confusing the hell out of her by watching her so closely. She felt his gaze on her as surely as she would have his touch. Heat simmered deep inside her and made her long for the cool night air.

But there was no escaping Garrett’s company. Not unless she was willing to let him think he’d chased her off. And she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

As her brain raced and her feet struggled to keep up with the dance, the song ended and the band moved instantly into something slower, softer. The fiddle player moved to the front of the stage and scraped his bow across the instrument’s strings. A haunting melody seeped into the room and the crowd quieted as the lead singer’s voice quietly sang of love lost.

Kyra backed up, trying not to look at Garrett at all. Isa slipped away into the crowd, and Kyra was alone with the man who held the future of her career in his hands.

“Dance with me,” he said softly as more of the line dancers faded back into the crowd.

“I just did,” she said, despite the knot lodged in her throat.

“Kyra…” His gaze moved over her face, studying her as if seeing her for the first time. Holding out one hand to her, he said again, “Dance with me.”

Around them, the music swelled, the strains of the fiddle an aching, living thing in the air.

And Kyra took his hand, stepping in close to him.

She couldn’t say why. She knew she shouldn’t. Knew it would be better for both of them if she simply went back to her table with Isa and forgot all about running into Garrett. But she couldn’t do it. Caught by something dark and dangerous glittering in his pale blue eyes, she followed a stronger instinct than the one telling her to leave.

He held her right hand in his left, wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. The scent of him invaded her, making her head swim. The strength of his grip made her pulse jump. The feel of his thighs moving against hers had her closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder.

Her heartbeat quickened and something hot and thick moved through her veins.

Music filled the air and swept through her senses, making everything seem sharper, clearer, hotter. She felt as if she were quivering, poised on the very lip of a precipice. But she couldn’t see the edge of the cliff and didn’t know what waited for her at the bottom.

All she knew for sure was her life had just taken another turn for the weird.

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