Judy Duarte: Wed By Fortune

As Uncle Roger studied her sweet, dozing daughter, Sasha stole another glance at Graham. He was dismounting now.

The years had been good to him, and as he swung a muscular leg over the saddle, all those girlish feelings returned tenfold. For one crazy, thoughtless moment, that silly crush she’d once harbored came rushing back full force and nearly stole her breath away.

She’d never met a man who could hold a candle to Graham in looks. In fact, if she weren’t seven months pregnant and still—at least, legally—married, she’d be a goner.

Well, that wasn’t true. She was older and wiser these days. And she’d learned the hard way that no man was perfect. Besides, she’d be swearing off romance and concentrating on her children for the next couple of years.

“You gonna sit in that car all day?” her uncle asked.

No, she wasn’t about to do that. And while she wasn’t eager to reveal her condition to either Roger or to Graham, she opened the door, grabbed her purse and slid out of her trusty Honda Civic.

The moment she did, Uncle Roger let out a slow whistle. But it wasn’t Roger’s reaction that concerned her now. For some dumb reason, she looked straight at Graham and waited for his response.

* * *

The first thing Graham noticed when Sasha got out of the car and stepped into the afternoon sunlight was that she was no longer the cute little tomboy he remembered. She was a stunning blonde and absolutely beautiful.

But damn. She was also pregnant. And while he was no expert, from the looks of it, she was about ready to deliver.

Were women in her condition supposed to travel, especially on long road trips?

Roger stepped away from Sasha’s car, then strode toward Graham and reached out his hand. “Gimme those reins. I’ll take care of your horse.”

What the hell? And leave Graham to make small talk?

He would have objected and insisted on putting the horse away himself, but Roger was probably afraid to stick around any longer for fear he’d say something to screw things up before he got a chance to take Sasha’s luggage inside. Speaking of which...

“Let me get your bags,” Graham said.

“They’re back here.” Sasha, with the strap of her purse over her shoulder and her hand perched on her belly, rounded the car and opened her trunk.

She hadn’t brought much, just two suitcases, so maybe she didn’t plan to stay long.

“Is this it?” he asked.

“I...uh...” She gave a shrug. “I shipped everything else.”

Everything? What all had she thought she’d need? Was she going to move in?

He lifted both bags from the car, and she shut the trunk. As he carried the suitcases to the front porch, he stole a peek at the lovely blonde.

Somewhere along the way, she’d shed the braces. And in spite of her obvious pregnancy, she’d blossomed into a shapely woman, one he found incredibly attractive. His heart rate had escalated to the point he felt what could almost be classified a sexual thrill just looking at her.

What did that say about him? What kind of man found a pregnant married woman so appealing?

He wasn’t going to stew about it. Instead he shook off the question, as well as any answer he might be able to come up with. He was just surprised to see her and how much she’d changed, that’s all.

“Is your daughter going to be okay in the car?” he asked.

“I’m only going to leave her in there for a minute. I thought I’d put my bags into the room where I used to sleep. But maybe I’d better leave them in the living room until Uncle Roger tells me where he’d like us to stay. I didn’t mean to be presumptive.”

“I’m sure it’s fine to put everything in your old bedroom,” Graham said, leading the way.

As far as he knew, Roger hadn’t changed a thing since Sasha was last here, the summer of her junior year. He’d wanted things to stay the way she’d left them. But after her high school graduation, she’d stayed in Austin to prepare for college.

So she could easily see that the room with lavender walls, dotted with posters, still bore evidence of the teenager she’d once been.

Graham placed the bags on the bed, which boasted a white goose-down comforter.

Sasha set her purse on the antique oak dresser, then thanked him for his help.

“No problem.”

They merely stood there, caught up in some kind of weird time warp. Then she nodded toward the doorway. “I’d better go wake up Maddie.”

Graham followed her outside, watching her walk, the hem of her yellow sundress swishing against her shapely calves. From behind, he’d never have known she was expecting a baby.

When they reached the front porch, she paused near the railing, took a deep breath of country air and scanned the yard. “I’ve really missed this place.”

Roger would be glad to know that. It would make it easier for them to put the past behind them.

“It’s been a long time,” Graham said, finally addressing the elephant in the room. “How’ve you been?”

“All right.” She turned to face him and bit down on her bottom lip, as though things might not be “all right.” But if that was the case, she didn’t mention it. “How about you? I see you’re still hanging out on the Galloping G.”

“I live here now. In the foreman’s quarters. I guess you could say I’m your uncle’s right-hand man.”

She pondered that bit of news for a moment. “I guess some things haven’t changed.”

Actually, she was wrong. A lot had changed, and there were more big changes coming down the pike.

“So, how’s your family?” she asked.

“Same old, same old.” It was a stock response to keep from going into any real detail. Sasha didn’t know that he’d never been close to his father—and even less so now that he’d chosen not to work at Robinson Tech, like most of his other siblings.

When she nodded, he offered a more interesting response and something she might soon hear from the neighbors. “My brother Ben and my sisters Rachel and Zoe have gotten married recently. And my brother Wes is engaged.”

“That’s nice,” she said, providing her own stock response. “How recently?”

“All within the last six months.” Then, for some damn reason, he added, “We might also be taking on a new last name.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Since it was too late to backpedal now, he continued with the unsettling truth. “Apparently, my dad was once a long-lost black sheep in the Fortune clan. His name was Jerome, not Gerald.”

Graham decided not to mention that Ben and some of his other siblings had taken on the Fortune name. But he wasn’t about to do that, especially when his father refused to admit the connection.

“Wow,” Sasha said. “And you never knew?”

“No, Dad kept that a secret from us, along with other things.” Graham wasn’t about to go into all that. Not now, anyway. Maybe not ever. He wasn’t particularly proud of the fact that his old man, a guy most people considered a quirky tech mogul, had eight legitimate kids, as well as who-knew-how-many illegitimate ones.

“How do you feel about that?” she asked, easing close enough for him to catch the faint hint of her orange-blossom scent.

He blew out a sigh, hoping to eliminate the taunting smell, as well as his lingering concerns of being a shirttail relative to such a famous family. It didn’t work in either case.

“It’s been a lot for me to take in,” he admitted. “So now my life on the Galloping G holds an even bigger appeal than it did before.”

“I can imagine. News like that would be...stunning. How do your brothers and sisters feel about it?”

“Actually, some of them hope it’s true. But the others aren’t too keen on it.” Graham, of course, was on the not-exactly-pleased side of it.