Fortune's Heirs: Reunion Page 21

  Was it Christina’s imagination, or were Rosita and Mama just a little too interested in Mr. Rockhard?

  “Rockwell,” she answered. “Derek Rockwell.”

  Rosita was nodding. “Yes, he is the one. We invited him to our fiesta, but he turned us down.”

  For her part, Mama was waving hello toward the adobe-style house, where Patrick Fortune was emerging.

  “Isn’t that right, Patrick?” she yelled. “Your partner was too good for our company.”

  With hugs and kisses, Patrick joined their circle, adjusting his glasses. He was as casually dressed as the rest of them, garbed in a blue polo shirt and lightweight slacks.

  “Quite the contrary,” he said, looking none too pleased that his protégé wasn’t taking some time off today. “Derek’s buried at the office, he tells me.”

  While Patrick took Christina in his paternal embrace, she felt guilty for being here while Rockwell was working. But she took comfort from Patrick’s smell: black licorice and aftershave.

  Holding her away from him, Patrick inspected her. “You look tired. Derek tells me you don’t sleep enough.”

  Mama and Rosita both clucked their tongues.

  “But he did say you two had dinner the other night,” Patrick added, exchanging a meaningful glance with Mama and Rosita.

  Just as Christina was starting to get an odd feeling about all these Rockhard comments and questions, her brother Jorge emerged out of the back door and onto the patio.

  All the neighbor women, married or not, stopped talking and gave him the once-over.

  Her brother. The guy with a daredevil swagger and dark hair tied back into a low ponytail. God’s gift to females.

  “Here I am to rescue you, Christina.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and maneuvered her toward the kitchen entrance. “Sierra assigned me this daunting task.”

  Christina steadied her wineglass, which had sloshed a bit of beverage onto the cement with the urgency of Jorge’s brotherly embrace.

  “Sorry,” she said, sending a sweet, totally insincere smile toward the trio of tomfoolery. “Look at me. Carted off before you can dig into the rest of my personal life.”

  Rosita waved a chipper bye-bye to them, but Mama and Patrick only seemed to get more thoughtful.

  “They had you surrounded,” Jorge whispered to her as they entered the house.

  While they made their way toward the heady smells of rice, refried beans and chile-spiced vegetables, Christina said, “Gracias, Jorge. Something’s up their sleeves. Maybe they were getting a feel for my schedule so they can set me up on some disastrous blind dates. Who knows?”

  “Hey, I have the feeling I’ll be in the same situation as soon as they’re done with you. Mama and Rosita can’t help themselves from meddling, bless those two bored women.”

  The sizzle of food, the clanging of pots and the buzz of lively conversation welcomed them to the kitchen. Like the rest of the dwelling, this room was accented with reminders of old Mexico: ranch antiques, such as an old lasso and cowboy hat, hung on the walls; hand-painted tiles decorated the floor; copper implements hung from racks. Steam from the stove added the final touch, lending the area a homey feel.

  “Here she is,” Jorge said, letting go of Christina. “Safe and sound.”

  “Oh, good.” Sierra, their youngest sister, flashed her compassionate brown eyes at Christina. Her long, curly brown hair was in a ponytail, giving the petite girl a waifish appeal. “We guessed you were being subjected to the third degree.”

  Gloria, the family beauty queen, with her long, flawless honey-brown hair and perfectly coiffed self, took Christina’s wineglass and set it on the counter. As she folded a knife into her sister’s hand and set her quickly to work on slicing bell peppers, Gloria’s self-designed silver jewelry sang like wind chimes.

  “Your effort is appreciated, Jorge,” she said.

  “Am I being dismissed?” He leaned on the counter, as if playfully rooting himself.

  “Yes,” said all three sisters.

  They knew he didn’t enjoy woman-talk anyway, so why not give him an excuse to leave?

  “That’s ungrateful.” He grabbed a fattening hunk of unshredded cheese and bit into it, dashing off to wherever men like him went when there was a family function.

  The stables? The TV room? The nearest cliff to hang glide off of?

  As he left, Christina swatted at his retreating form with a nearby towel, missing his hip by inches. On purpose, of course, since she was well-known as the crack-shot toweler of the family.

  “So were we right?” Gloria asked, going back to her chore of stirring a simmering pot of beans. “Is Mama up to no good?”

  “Just like when she masterminded our reunion by locking us into that room until we all made up?” Sierra added, chopping strawberries.

  “Something fishy is going on,” said Christina. “But I can’t figure out what.”

  Both sisters nodded, wrinkling their foreheads and turning back to their cooking tasks. While they weren’t looking, Christina couldn’t help but sneak a piece of that delicious cheddar cheese, too, just like Jorge had done.

  So she’d just do a few more sit-ups tonight.

  As it happened, she’d barely popped it into her mouth before Sierra glanced back at her.

  “Mama’s been giving me the marriage eye also, ever since Chad and I split.”

  “I told you,” Gloria said, “stop thinking about that bag of dirt. He only makes you melancholy.”

  “I know.” Sierra’s delicate shoulders slumped under the pink cotton of her spring blouse. “But I can’t help it. Maybe Chad was my last chance and I’m never going to find a man like him again.”

  Christina knew exactly how her sis was feeling. Even though she’d had only two notable boyfriends in her life, each breakup had built a monument of sadness for her. An inner mark of memory, keeping her guarded, yet vulnerable.

  She’d never been the type to give out hugs, but now, after realizing how much family meant, Christina didn’t hesitate to comfort Sierra with an embrace. The younger woman rested her head on Christina’s shoulder, driving home that she was a big sister and had so many responsibilities to make up for.

  “After our year is over and done with,” she said, referring to the bet while petting Sierra’s crazy-curled head, “you’ll find someone who appreciates everything about you. I’ll bet Mr. Right’s even closer than you think.”

  “I wish.” Sierra sniffled, then immediately straightened up. “Actually, no. I don’t wish. I won’t crumble. Not like Gloria did with Jack.”

  In a show of unity, Christina hugged Sierra closer. You said it, sister.

  Gloria joined them, stroking her younger sibling’s shoulder. “Okay, you two, enough. I had my day of French maid punishment, but Christina’s right about one thing. The second you stop looking for love, that’s when you’ll find it.”

  Rockwell’s charming smile danced over Christina’s vision.

  Oh, please.

  Sierra dried her eyes against Christina’s olive T-shirt, but that was okay. A little smudge of tears added some character to her wardrobe anyway, and she could use all she could get.

  “Had you stopped looking, Gloria?” Sierra asked. “When you found Jack, I mean?”

  “You bet.” The loveliest of the Mendoza women became even more so as she laid a hand upon her belly, where a child was growing. “I’d lost all hope. But now, I can’t ever believe I felt that way.”

  “There’s a man out there for you, Sierra,” Christina added. “Just wait a year and you’ll see.”

  “Same for you.” Sierra’s innocent eyes shone in the aftermath of her tears. “You’re due, Christina.”

  “No kidding,” said Gloria. “Five years is a long time between boyfriends.”

  There was a pause, and Christina knew just what her sisters were thinking. Macrizon. Rebecca Waters.

  When both Gloria and Christina had worked in the same office—Gloria as a CPA, Christina as
an analyst—their co-worker had befriended them. Rebecca had been a party girl extraordinaire, taking them clubbing every night, staying out late, encouraging them to show up to work the next morning spent and hungover. Even though Christina had been the eternal designated driver, the friend who’d done more observing than carousing, she’d noticed a fall in her efficiency. And she’d pulled back from Rebecca.

  That’s when the other woman had taken some mild revenge.

  “Don’t worry. Nobody like Rebecca will ever come between us again,” Gloria said softly.

  “I know.” Overwhelmed, Christina turned away, resumed slicing the peppers.

  But Gloria stopped her by resting a hand on top of Christina’s.

  “Sis?” she said.

  Christina was so used to living her life in a self-imposed shell that it was hard to look up again. But she did.

  Gloria was still holding her hand. “You know Rebecca was lying about Carson.”

  Carson Fuller. A man Christina had started to date after she’d retreated from Rebecca. A good man, who appreciated her brains and told her she was gorgeous and desirable. And even though Christina had a hard time believing the part about her so-called beauty, she’d fallen for Carson.

  At the time, Gloria was still partying with Rebecca, caught in a swirling descent of debauchery. There’d been nothing Christina could do to convince her sister to pull away from their co-worker. And when Rebecca had found out that Christina was trying to “steal” Gloria, she’d pitted the sisters against each other.

  “Deep down,” Christina said, “I knew Rebecca was lying when she kept insinuating that you and Carson were interested in each other. But there was always a small part of me that couldn’t help believing it.”

  “I wish you’d known otherwise.”

  Same here, thought Christina. Because if she had, they all wouldn’t have wasted so much time apart.

  “You and I were far beyond having rational conversations at that point,” Christina said, remembering how things had gone from bad to worse.

  Gloria glanced at her sandals, then back up, regret sheening in her eyes. “I’ll never forgive myself for not backing you up with William Dugan.”

  Christina’s stomach turned. It had been the hardest time in her life, with her breaking up with Carson because she’d believed that he was attracted to Gloria. With her reeling under the inappropriate advances of William Dugan.

  It’d taken all her strength to press sexual harassment charges against him. And when Rebecca had started spreading rumors that Christina had “asked for it,” she’d lost courage. Then she’d had trouble prosecuting Dugan, since his powerful reputation spoke louder than her pitiful, hard-to-prove accusations. The final nail in her coffin had been when Gloria had refused to believe her, too, even hinting that Dugan’s harassment was a figment of Christina’s imagination.

  Soon after the charges against her boss had been dismissed, she’d moved to Los Angeles, mired in shame and distrust.

  “I think,” said Christina, reaching out for her sister’s hands, “we’re beyond all that. We’re here to move on, right?”

  “Right,” they said, holding on to each other.

  She was so caught up in her sisters that she barely heard the front door open and close.

  This is what mattered, she thought, squeezing their fingers in her grip. Family.

  Never having anyone come between them again.

  But just as she was fighting the happy tears aching in her throat, an interloper stepped in front of her, breaking her hold on Gloria.

  “Christina.”

  Out of breath, Derek Rockwell stood there, brown eyes turned to a deep black, a high flush overcoming the usual tan of his face.

  The shock of seeing him electrified Christina, fixing her into one place, speechless. As they locked gazes, her heartbeat thudded in her ears.

  But her sisters weren’t so overcome.

  “Who are you?” Gloria asked.

  “That wasn’t very polite,” Sierra added.

  He was frozen, too, and for a second, Christina actually thought he might be just as rattled by seeing her again.

  She blinked. He blinked.

  Then they both regained their composure.

  “I apologize,” he said, turning around to face her sisters. “That was very rude, but…”

  He grabbed Christina’s hand and started leading her out of the kitchen.

  “Christina?” Gloria asked.

  “Just a minute.” She tugged away from Rockwell, pointed to him. “This is my boss. Evidently, I’m still on the clock.”

  Rockwell paused, then flashed that lethal grin at her sisters. Immediately, they both relaxed and smiled right back.

  Suckers.

  Yeah. As if she were one to talk.

  “Derek Rockwell,” he said, striding forward to shake their hands. “Again, I apologize.”

  When the introductions had been completed, he turned back to Christina. Behind him, Sierra and Gloria gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. How embarrassing.

  “Did you finally decide to join the little people for some fun and games at the barbecue?” she asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  He started to lead her away again, but she dug in her heels. Finally, no doubt realizing she wouldn’t be pushed around, Rockwell stopped walking. But he did keep his hand on her elbow.

  Fingers against her bare skin. The sensation shot a jumble of awareness through her.

  And she couldn’t help wondering if he was feeling the same explosions.

  Derek didn’t want to stop touching her.

  This was the most skin he’d ever seen Christina exhibit. Sure, she was wearing a pretty tame T-shirt with shorts and sandals, but he could see actual curves now.

  The fluid lines of her hips, her waist, her breasts.

  Desire jagged through his belly, and he forced himself to let go of her.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  Because he was a workaholic? Because he’d started to convince himself that a good presentation would make him shine in Jack’s and Patrick’s estimations?

  He went with the simplest explanation.

  “You wouldn’t take any of my calls.”

  “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  Whoa. Slightly ticked off.

  “I like my employees to always be available,” he said. “And I don’t like to be ignored.”

  “Then maybe you should invest in a harem.”

  In the background, there was the sudden rattling of dishes. Shortly thereafter, Sierra and Gloria whizzed past, carrying plates out of the room.

  When they were gone, Derek couldn’t help offering a grin to her. Hell, The Rockwell Smile had been getting him out of tough spots with women for years.

  “What makes you think I don’t already have a harem?” he asked.

  “Not only is that wrong in so many ways,” she said, planting her hands on her slim hips, “but I’m willing to bet you’re being facetious. Now leave.”

  Hello? The smile? Hadn’t she seen it?

  He cleared his throat. “You wouldn’t come to the office, so I’m here to bring the office to you. I’ve got the materials in my car.”

  Her mouth gaped, then she shut it. “You came all the way out here, twenty miles one way from San Antonio, to ruin my day? Did I not say that I would come in tonight?”

  “I’m inspired now.”

  “And I’m not. I’m having quality family time, and no one disturbs that.”

  Derek didn’t know much about “family time,” so he couldn’t relate. Except when it came to Patrick, of course, but that was different. They generally didn’t have barbecues together.

  “I can’t do this without you,” he said, ignoring her excuses.

  Christina closed her eyes, almost looking as if she were going to explode from a lack of patience. Calmly, she said, “You really need to learn the PowerPoint computer program, Rockwell.”

  Rockwell? At least it was mo
re personal without the “Mr.”

  Derek couldn’t help feeling a certain sense of accomplishment.

  “Come on,” he said. “I’ll run my ideas past you and you can show me the finer points of cyber slide shows.”

  When she opened her eyes, his heart jumped. God, she was incredibly hot with some anger running through her. Her eyes were a more golden shade, livid with emotion.

  “I’m not leaving my family,” she said. “Never again. Not even for a day.”

  Derek didn’t want to admit it, but he thought his new idea would be the coup de grâce of their presentation. Impressing his colleagues was all-important, especially since Jack would be in the room.

  Spurred by the need to look good at all costs, Derek reacted without thinking.

  Earlier, he’d spotted a rope hanging on the wall, a decoration. But he had need of it in an entirely different way now.

  He took it down and inspected it.

  “What are you doing, Rockwell?”

  “You coming?” He looped it, stepped closer to her.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  As an answer, he slid the lasso over her body. It wasn’t tight enough to do damage, but it made moving her arms real tough.

  “Very funny,” she said, looking as if she were close to blowing her top. “Now take it off.”

  Instead, he started walking, pulling her along. “I need you, Christina.”

  “So you said. Look, can’t you take no for an answer?”

  “I didn’t get where I am listening to refusals.”

  As he guided her through the spacious living room, they ran into Patrick, who’d obviously been summoned by her sisters.

  “I’m being kidnapped,” Christina said.

  “About time,” Patrick said, leaning against a wall and smiling.

  As Christina’s mouth dropped open, Derek shot the older man a chastising glance. “Not another comment, all right?”

  “Fair enough.” Patrick motioned toward the backyard. “Stay with us and I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

  “Nope, too much work to do. That’s why you brought me to San Antonio, right? To get something done?”

  While Patrick considered this, Christina interrupted.

  “Rockwell, your partner and his wife are requesting your presence. Wouldn’t it be a good networking move to stay?”