Fortune's Legacy. Maureen Child

waitresses in black shorts and yellow T-shirts dipped and swayed as they moved through the crowd, carrying loaded trays of drinks and nachos. In the far corner a country and western band swung into a fast-tempo tune that had couples streaming toward the large square dance floor.

      Against one wall a long, intricately carved mahogany bar was manned by three bartenders hustling to keep up with demand. A wall of mirrors backed the bar and reflected the room, so that it seemed to go on forever.

      Isa reached across the table and patted Kyra’s hand. “Don’t let him get to you like this.”

      “Can’t help it,” she admitted, and dragged one fingernail through the circle of water left by her glass on the tabletop. Staring blindly at the path of her scarlet nail, she muttered, “He’s going to fire me.”

      “You don’t know that.”

      She laughed shortly, despite the sinking sensation inside. “Sure I do.” Reaching out, she snagged a tortilla chip, then sat back in her chair and nibbled it. “He’s hated me since day one.”

      “You don’t know that, either.”

      “Please. He ignores me in meetings and practically runs the other way if he happens to see me in a hallway.”

      “Hmm…” Isa smiled, took a sip of her drink and set it down again.

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      Her best friend shrugged and smiled. “Just hmm…”

      “There’s more.”

      “I’m only thinking that maybe he’s not avoiding you because he hates you, but because he’s attracted to you.”

      Kyra choked on a piece of chip. Coughing wildly, she held up one hand, grabbed her margarita and took a gulp. Still choking, eyes watering, she stared at the other woman. “Are you nuts?”

      Laughing now, Isa shook her head and winked at a nearby man when he turned to look at her. Then, focusing on Kyra again, she said, “Sexual tension can erupt in the weirdest places.”

      Kyra felt a rush shoot straight through her. Her friend’s words echoed over and over in her mind, and Kyra tried, desperately, to think about them objectively. But there was just no way.

      “This isn’t about sexual tension,” she snapped, then winced and lowered her voice as she leaned across the table. “Trust me when I say neither one of us is feeling anything like that.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      Disbelief rang in Isa’s tone, and Kyra didn’t know how to convince her friend. Especially when there was a slim, fragile, wispy, almost nonexistent thread of worry unspooling inside her. Fine. Garrett was gorgeous. And just maybe, under other, very different circumstances, there might have been something between them.

      In a different life.

      On a different planet.

      In another universe.

      Oh, boy.

      “I see that look,” Isa said with an air of triumph.

      “What look?”

      “The look that says, ‘I might be interested.’”

      “I’m not.”

      “Sure.”

      “And even if I were,” Kyra hedged, “he isn’t.”

      “Okay.”

      “Stop agreeing with me.”

      “Whatever you say.”

      Kyra’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing this deliberately.”

      “Yeah,” Isa said, laughing. “But it got your mind off everything else, didn’t it?”

      Yes, it had. However, her mind was probably safer worrying about being fired than it was thinking about Garrett Wolff in a sexual way. She’d spent the last two days waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d half expected to be called into his office for the review he’d promised her and then be given a hearty handshake and a severance check.

      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.