A Baby Changes Everything (10 page)

“That's ridiculous.” He struggled not to raise his voice. “You and Luke aren't last. Damn it, Savannah, it's not a contest—”

“Certainly feels like one.”

He went on as if she hadn't said anything. “—and five years isn't enough time to establish a ranch.”

Didn't he get the point? He was investing all this time he wouldn't be able to use again. “But it's five years that you won't get back. Five years out of your son's life that you missed. And five years out of ours.”

She was beginning to make his head ache. “What are you talking about?” Cruz demanded. “You and Luke are here every day.”

“And you've taken that for granted,” Savannah retorted.

He could see the ranch hands looking in their direction. Damn Savannah for picking here and now to have this out with him.

“Oh, don't start that stereotypical garbage with me. I don't take you for granted. I depend on you.”

She wasn't going to allow him to wiggle his way out of this with words. Yes, he depended on her, but in a careless, offhanded manner. She wanted some sign of appreciation, some hold on his time. “Even the ranch hands get a bonus.”

He stared at her as if she'd begun babbling in a foreign
tongue. “I hand over all the money to you. What more do you want? For heaven's sake, you're the bookkeeper.”

“I don't want money, I want you,” Savannah reiterated for what she felt had to be the umpteenth time.

“And how the hell is your going to Vanessa's supposed to accomplish that?”

She wasn't thinking beyond the moment. All she knew was that she needed to get away. Being around him, being neglected by him, just hurt too much.

“I don't know. Maybe it'll make you miss me. Or maybe you'll find out that you're happier without me.” She squared her shoulders, a soldier about to face the front lines for the first time. “Either way, it's about time we knew.”

His eyes searched her face, still not believing what he was hearing. “Then you're serious?”

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling and giving her away. “Never more.”

He was having trouble letting the concept sink in. There had to be something he was missing. Savannah couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying. “You'd leave me.”

It sounded so cruel when he said it. But she couldn't waver, she told herself. If she did, she was lost. She had to be strong. For both their sakes. “I think we need a breather to sort things out.”

His eyes narrowed. “You leave this house, our marriage is over.”

It was the wrong thing for him to say.

Savannah wasn't about to allow herself to be threatened or backed into a corner.

In her opinion, she'd tried harder than any three women to make their marriage work. Over the last year, she'd made all sorts of excuses for his behavior, for his absences,
but that was all in the past. She was tired of bending over backward, tired of pretending everything was going to work out when it just kept getting worse.

It had taken her a long time to come to grips with this, but she couldn't live like this anymore, stressed out with nothing positive to focus on.

Maybe she'd never had what she'd wanted, and had just been deluding herself all along.

As she'd told Cruz, it was time for her to find out.

Savannah straightened her shoulders, her eyes on his. “Well, then, I guess it's over, because I am going to Vanessa's house.”

Cruz glared at her, furious. He would never have believed she was capable of this, of giving him an ultimatum, forcing him to go against everything he believed in just because she needed to be reassured that he cared about her.

Cared about her? Hell, everything he'd done from the moment he'd first realized she was carrying his child five years ago had been for her. This ranch was for her and Luke and the baby who was coming.

Children needed to be proud of their father. And she was asking him to sacrifice everything because she was feeling insecure.

Damn it, he loved her, but he wasn't going to be ruled by her. What kind of a man would he be if he allowed that to happen? What kind of an example would he be setting for his son?

“I guess it is,” he told her tonelessly.

There was no door to slam in his wake. There didn't have to be. His receding footsteps echoed in her brain long after she'd hurried into the house.

To pack.

V
anessa was standing at the top of the stairs, watching for her when Savannah walked into the ranch house. “How is everything?”

Savannah looked up at her. “It's been better.”

It was hard getting the words out over the huge lump that had suddenly materialized in her throat. Savannah refused to cry in front of her friend, afraid that once she began, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Her hormones still felt as if they were in high gear. And right now there was an ocean behind her eyes just waiting to be unleashed.

She pressed her lips together, determined to work her way through this crying jag that threatened to overtake her. She looked up at Vanessa. She knew she'd made an assumption earlier, but that had been just for Cruz's benefit. She'd secretly hoped that if he thought she was walking
out on him, it would suddenly force him to realize that he needed to reassess his priorities, to put his family first the way he once had.

Swallowing, she cleared her throat. “Can I stay with you?”

The moment she asked, Vanessa flew down the stairs. Luke was in his room, still sorting through his toys to find his five favorite ones the way she'd asked him to. The two friends were alone together. She went to Savannah and threw her arms around her.

“That goes without saying, you know that. You and Luke are welcome to stay with us for as long as you want.” And then she drew her back to study Savannah's face. “Not that it won't be wonderful having my best friend within reach again, but are you sure you want to do this? We both know that men can be very pigheaded where their pride is concerned.”

A sad smile curved Savannah's mouth. She willed her tears back. “Yes, I know. But this is my last stand, Vanessa. If I can't get Cruz to realize that he misses me, if I can't get him to come around and see what it is he's throwing away because he's taking it for granted, well, maybe I've been fooling myself all along.” She glanced at the portrait over the fireplace. It was of the two of them, done shortly after Luke had been born. “Maybe I've been in love with a man who really doesn't exist anymore.” Squaring her shoulders, she looked back at Vanessa. “If that's the case, I might as well find out now and move on with my life.”

Move on.

It sounded so modern, Savannah thought. As if she really could extract Cruz from her heart and push forward. There was never going to be anyone else in her life but him. If she lived to be a hundred, she knew she was never going
to love another man. Never give another man her heart the way she had Cruz.

Damn him.

Vanessa had her doubts about the wisdom of what Savannah was proposing to do, but she knew that her friend felt as if she had to do something. And who knew, maybe this would shake Cruz up.

Still, she thought there might be another way to get things back to the way they were. “Have you thought about going to a marriage counselor?”

Savannah laughed shortly, shaking her head. “That would require time, which is exactly what Cruz and I are arguing about now. Time and sharing,” she added ruefully. “Cruz isn't about to admit to himself that we have any problems, let alone talk to anyone else about them. And a stranger?” She hooted. That was just never going to happen.

“A professional,” Vanessa pointed out, although, knowing Cruz, she had to admit that Savannah was right. The man would never go for it. When it came to his own, he was as private as a clam.

“A professional stranger, that's how Cruz would see it.” The smile faded from Savannah's lips. “No, this is the only way.”

Vanessa hesitated, then posed the question that was hovering between them like a fearsome specter. “And if he doesn't come around? What if he decides to wait you out instead?”

That possibility had already occurred to her. “Then I'll take the next step.” Savannah steeled herself as she uttered the word. “Divorce.” Even so, it made her physically ill just to say it.

Just to think it.

It took very little for Vanessa to feel her friend's pain. She knew how she would feel, having some judge and a pile of legal papers declare her union to Devin over. “Oh, Savannah.”

For Vanessa's sake, Savannah forced a smile to her lips. It was hardly more than a hint of one.

“We're not there yet. Come help me pack,” she urged. “I'm feeling a little scattered right now. I could wind up packing the hangers and leaving the clothes.”

“You could start a whole new look.” The smile Vanessa offered her friend was soft, encouraging. “Who knows, on you it might work.” She slipped her arm around Savannah's shoulders as they went up the stairs.

 

He watched them go.

Cruz was in the second corral, the one farther from the house, where he trained the horses he was getting ready to sell. To take his mind off the argument he'd just had with Savannah, he was grooming Flaming Arrow, the chestnut quarter horse he'd bonded to first.

As he drew the curry comb through the mare's mane, he saw Savannah come out of the house with Luke. She had a single suitcase with her, as did the boy.

For a second, something akin to hope shot through Cruz.

And then he saw Vanessa carrying two more suitcases. Putting them into the cherry-red Mustang, she doubled back for more.

His heart turned to lead within his chest.

It was really happening, he thought. Savannah was leaving him, along with their son.

His hand tightened so hard around the curry comb it seemed in danger of snapping in half.

Savannah put Luke into the back seat, then rounded the hood and got in behind the wheel. The car door closed and she started up the vehicle. The sound of the engine transcended everything else, all the noises around him.

The bucket of soapy water he'd used to wash the mare stood at his feet. Cruz never brought his anger to the corral, to the horses. He knew them to be sensitive creatures, capable of knowing when there was discord around them. He wanted to bring out the positive aspects of their personalities in order to turn them into good working animals.

But right now his anger rose up like bile in his mouth.

Unable to stifle it, he kicked the bucket next to him. The soapy water sloshed over the sides before the pail fell over. The suds sank into the dirt, leaving behind a residue of foam.

“Something wrong, Boss?” Billy called out.

Cruz made no answer, but went back to brushing the mare.

Billy, always cheerful to a fault, walked over and picked up the pail and the sponge that had fallen out of it. At twenty-three, the young cowboy had finally stopped growing, topping off at six foot three inches. He wore his curly blond hair longer than was the style. On humid days, it swirled around his head like a sunny crown.

The ranch hand glanced toward the house and saw two cars leaving.

“Thought you and the missus were going on a camping trip.”

“Well, we're not,” Cruz stated. Then he shrugged carelessly. “Hank's accident changed that.”

Billy wiped his damp hands on the back of his jeans. “Oh.”

His knowing tone had Cruz looking sharply at the younger man.

Billy's easygoing grin only widened. “Ever tell you my philosophy about women, Boss?”

“No.” The single word was meant to be a warning that he didn't want to hear whatever Billy had to say.

The nuance was wasted on the young man.

“They're like roses,” he told Cruz. “The prettiest ones have the worst thorns and need a lot of—what d'you call it—finesse.” He grinned at being able to find the right word. “That way you can handle them without losing blood.” The grin widened again. “But they're always worth it.”

Jaime came up to join them. He clamped a hand on Billy's shoulder. “This from a guy who's only been with one woman his whole life,” he hooted.

“Or so I've said,” Billy answered, with a smug wink that was meant to make the two men wonder.

Jaime went back to what he was doing. Only then did Billy look at Cruz. His expression had turned sober.

“You ever need to talk, Boss,” he told him, lowering his voice so that Jaime wouldn't overhear, “I'm here.”

There was no point in taking the kid's head off, Cruz thought. He had no idea what was really going on, and he meant well.

Cruz nodded toward the stables. “Well, while you're here, Billy, see what you can do about getting the colts fed.”

The cowboy inclined his golden head, glad to be of use. “Right away. And then maybe you'll let me watch you work with the cutting horses.”

“Maybe,” Cruz echoed.

It seemed enough for Billy.

 

The fund-raiser for children with HIV was held in the largest ballroom of the poshest hotel in San Antonio. From one end to the other, the huge room was filled with beautiful people. At first, it had left Melissa “Wilkes” in awe.

She'd seen celebrities rubbing elbows with billionaires, self-made as well as second and third generation. Toying with her third glass of wine, a vintage one from someone's private collection, Melissa had trouble deciding which group was her favorite.

The richest, she supposed, because money created its own aura of celebrity. The thought made her smile as she took another sip.

The wine wasn't going to her head, it was empowering her. Clarifying her vision of things to come.

Things she was going to make happen.

Hooking up with Jason and posing as his wife had been one of the smartest things she'd ever done, she decided.

And now she was focused on doing something even smarter.

Cutting Ryan Fortune out of the herd of desirable men and making him her own.

Granted, the man was currently married, but Lily Fortune was his third wife. A man who'd married three times wouldn't be averse to marrying a fourth, Melissa mused knowingly. And she certainly had no problem with not being the first.

As long as she was the last.

Melissa Fortune.

It had a nice ring to it.

And it would come with a nice ring, she thought, feeling slightly giddy. The one on Lily Fortune's left hand could easily be used to guide fog-enshrouded ships lost
at sea back to the safety of the harbor. Melissa already knew that she was going to ask for a bigger one when it was her turn.

That it wouldn't be her turn never crossed her mind. Confidence was the hallmark of her personality. Young, gorgeous and well-endowed, Melissa always got what she set her cap on.

And now she was determined, very determined, to better her lot.

When Jason had come into her life with his scheme to discredit Ryan Fortune because of some “injustice” he'd said the man's ancestors had visited upon his grandfather, she had agreed to pretend to be his wife. It was to give him the air of respectability he needed. She'd done it on a lark. At the time she'd felt that anything was better than withering on the vine the way she'd been.

But now that she'd had a taste of the good life, like the Fisherman's Wife, she wanted more.

And more came in the guise of Ryan Fortune.

Jason had rubbed off on her, she mused, looking around at the people mingling in the ballroom. She intended to do him one better.

Because Jason knew how to orchestrate things in his favor, he had managed to be the right man in the right place when they were looking to fill a position in Fortune TX, Ltd., the company headed by Ryan's nephew, Logan. Jason knew that there was trouble within the company and that Ryan was coming in as an adviser. He'd made sure to get noticed, quickly making a name for himself.

So much so that he wound up catching Ryan's attention. The man had a reputation of rewarding those who worked hard on his behalf.

The thought amused her. Little did Ryan realize that what Jason was working hard at was his eventual discredit and demise.

Which had been all one and the same to her until she'd decided otherwise. Until the good life had opened its doors to her and shown her all the possibilities that being married to someone rich and powerful could really provide.

Jason was never going to be that person. There was something ultimately destructive about him. He was fixated on Ryan's ruin.

She was fixated on her own elevation.

Working behind the scenes, Melissa had laid her own groundwork for the future. She'd made sure to join all the charities Ryan gave his time to. She'd arranged things so they were in places at the same time. She made it so that every time he turned around, she'd be there. Helping.

And every opportunity she had to flirt with Ryan, to flatter him, she grabbed. When Jason took her to task about it, she'd said that she was only doing it to divert the old man's attention from Jason's true purpose. And Jason, the fool, had bought it.

Up to a point.

But she didn't care what Jason thought or didn't think. Her goal was quite plainly the seduction and winning of Ryan Fortune.

It certainly wouldn't be as odious as some of the things she'd done. At age fifty-nine, Ryan Fortune was still a very attractive man with a full head of dark brown hair and a solid, muscular build from years of working on a ranch.

But even if the man looked like Rumplestiltskin, she wouldn't have cared. He came with enough money to make him extremely desirable to her.

Finishing her wine, Melissa put the fluted glass down on a nearby table and picked up another from a passing waiter. She drank deeply, feeling the liquid course through her veins. Feeling as if she could conquer the world.

Or at least one dapper man.

She intended to go about her plan from two different directions. The first was to appeal to Ryan, which she assured herself she already did. That he hadn't taken her up on her less than veiled suggestions of meeting with her in one of the hotel's suites didn't deter her. He'd succumb by and by.

The second part of her plan was to create discord between Ryan and his wife. She couldn't very well offer the man a shoulder to cry on if there was nothing to cry about, now, could she?