Fortune's Valentine Bride. Marie FerrarellaЧитать онлайн книгу.
A baby that had almost been born nearly a month ago, thanks to the tornado that had ripped through Red Rock just minutes before her family, who had flown out for her Christmas Eve wedding, were to take off for Atlanta.
It still left her breathless when she thought about it. One minute, she was saying her goodbyes, the next, they were being all but buried alive in debris as the tornado buzz sawed through the airport, collapsing it all around them.
The shock of it all, including having Marcos’s badly injured brother, Javier, lapse into a coma, was too much for her. She found herself going into labor way before she was anywhere near her due date. Luckily, her doctor was able to temporarily curtail her contractions with injections. The hope was that she could hold on long enough for the baby’s lungs to develop sufficiently to sustain the infant outside the womb.
Right now the process seemed as if it was taking forever. And having Blake constantly slanting wary glances in her direction really wasn’t helping anything, especially not her frame of mind.
The problem was Blake could see her side of it. If the tables were turned, he wouldn’t want people hovering around him, either, no matter how much he loved them. “I suppose you have a point.”
Wendy smiled broadly, relieved that Blake wasn’t offended by her strongly worded “suggestion.” But then, this was Blake and, most of the time, they really did think alike.
“Of course I do.”
Blake was already focusing on another project, one that had gone begging for his attention much too long. It was time to stop allowing it to take a backseat and get started on it in earnest.
“Actually, there has been something I’ve been meaning to do ever since we were practically buried alive in that airport,” he confessed to her.
Wendy wasn’t sure she was following him. “You were thinking of business at a time like that?” she asked incredulously. “God, Blake, you’re more like Dad than I thought.”
No, he highly doubted that any one of his father’s offspring would ever be placed in the same category as their dad. The man ate and slept business and, while he expected the same of his children, none of them, Blake thought, would ever measure up to the old man’s expectations. Blake sincerely doubted that anyone—besides a robot—could.
“Not business exactly,” he explained. For the moment, he moved his chair in even closer to Wendy’s bed, lowering his voice. This was something he wasn’t ready to share with the immediate world—at least not yet. “When it looked like we actually might not make it, I promised myself that if we did survive, I’d stop putting my life on hold and do what I should have done years ago.”
Intrigued, Wendy sat up a little straighter in her bed. She pushed another one of the pillows behind her, tucking it against her back. “Go on,” she encouraged, curious where this was going.
“I promised myself that, if I survived, I was going to go after the woman who I allowed to slip away all those years ago.” Smiling broadly at the plan that was, even now, evolving and taking on layers in his mind, Blake paused a second for dramatic effect, then shared the woman’s name. “Brittany Everett.”
“I changed my mind,” Wendy told him. “Don’t go on.” She blew out a breath, sincerely disappointed with Blake’s revelation. She’d hoped that the socialite Brittany Everett, would be a thing of the past in Blake’s life. Actually, she’d secretly been hoping that when her brother’s thoughts finally took a more serious turn toward things of a romantic nature, it would be images of Katie Wallace that ramped up his body temperature.
Everyone but Blake, apparently, knew that Brittany was just a spoiled Daddy’s girl. In addition, she was someone who gave all “Southern belles” a bad name.
Trying her best not to look annoyed, Wendy slumped back on her pillows.
“What do you see in that woman?” she demanded in frustration. Before Blake could answer, she held up her hand. She was in no mood to hear any accolades for a woman she had never liked. “I mean, other than the obvious—that she could tip over if she turned around too fast.” The woman under discussion had a pretty face, a large chest—and a completely empty head, not to mention no heart to speak of.
Wendy was pregnant and her hormones were undoubtedly all over the charts, Blake reasoned, so he let her last comment go and only said defensively, “You don’t know Brittany.”
Now, there he was wrong, Wendy thought. “Oh, but I do, Blake, I really do,” she countered. Fixing him with an exasperated look, she insisted, “Blake, she’s not good enough for you.”
He laughed. When Wendy was very young, she’d been very possessive of him and jealous of any time he spent with anyone besides her. He supposed that there was still a tiny bit of that little girl left, even though she was now a married woman.
“You’d say that about anybody.”
His protest made her think of Katie. Katie was extremely likable and had a great deal going for her. Katie’s family lived practically next door to hers in Atlanta, and they had all grown up together. She was kind, pretty and smart—and not even the least bit self-serving.
Brittany, on the other hand, was convinced that the world existed only for her own pleasure. Not only that, but it all revolved around her, as well.
Granted, Brittany and Blake had dated during his senior year, but from what Wendy had heard via the grapevine, she hadn’t changed a bit.
“No,” Wendy said firmly, “I wouldn’t.”
But Blake was convinced that he was right and that she was only acting like the overprotective little sister she’d once been. “Yeah, you would,” he insisted. “But that’s okay. My mind’s made up. I’m going to launch a campaign—”
Were they still talking about the same thing? “A campaign?” Wendy questioned, looking at her brother uncertainly.
“Uh-huh. A business campaign.” This was the very strategy he’d been missing, he told himself. He had to approach this goal of his by using his strengths and his skills if he hoped to ever win his “prize.” “That’s what I should have done in the first place, instead of just backing away,” he told Wendy. The more he talked about it, the more convinced he became that this was the right approach. “If I’d gone after Brittany the way I usually go after a new client, I would have won her over a long time ago.” He nodded at his sister’s swollen belly. “And then little MaryAnne would have another doting aunt when she’s born.”
God forbid, Wendy thought, all but biting her tongue to keep from voicing her thoughts out loud.
“You know,” Blake continued as his thoughts fell into place, “your idea about setting up an office in Scott’s house isn’t half bad. If I want to approach this problem professionally—”
Wendy fought the desire to tell her brother that she’d been too hasty and had made a mistake. That she really needed him to hang around here and help her stave off the boredom.
But then, if this really was Blake’s mind-set, she knew that he would continue talking about Brittany and how wonderful he thought she was. She also knew that she would come very close to strangling her beloved brother if he went on and on about Brittany and her so-called attributes. If nothing else, it would make her nauseous as hell.
Still, she had to find a way to at least try to throw a monkey wrench into this absurd “campaign” plan of his. Not that she actually thought that the heartless Brittany would wind up marrying her brother. She knew the woman well enough to know that Brittany was too accustomed to being fawned over by a host of men to ever give that up for just one man.
But if Blake went all out to win Brittany over, he would eventually have his heart cut out and handed to him—and not on a silver platter. Wendy was determined to do whatever it took to spare her brother that ultimate pain and humiliation.
But