Fortune's Proposal. Allison Leigh

a drop in the bucket compared to what he was going to get out of it.

      The right to head up Fortune Forecasting once and for all.

      “Deanna.” He started to reach for her hand where it was resting on her lap, but hesitated.

      The diamond solitaire that he’d chosen from the two-dozen rings that Bob had brought by the office less than an hour after Drew had called him was on her ring finger. Even in the dim light in the back of the limo, the ring gleamed.

      How many times had he said that a wedding ring was just a noose in disguise?

      Yet now, he had a his-and-her pair of the damned things—platinum to match the band on the engagement ring—in his pocket. All ready to go for the big day.

      Whenever they decided that would be.

      Given the way his father was harping on the subject, it wouldn’t be soon enough for William.

      Drew ignored her slender fingers and jiggled her narrow wrist with the oversize watch on it instead. “Rise and shine, Dee,” he said more loudly.

      Her head shifted again and her eyes slowly opened. She stared at him drowsily. “Hmm?”

      She’d have that expression in bed, he thought, and abruptly went hard.

      An oath zipped around inside his head and he stared over her head out the window, focusing on the lines of the fencing that marked off his brother’s property.

      Deanna was his assistant. His fiancée for convenience’s sake. Not a woman he needed to be envisioning—way too easily envisioning, at that—in his bed. Or pressed back against the deep limo seat …

      “We’re almost at Molly’s Pride.” He cleared his throat. “My brother’s ranch.”

      She blinked a little, then seemed to realize that she was all but sprawled over the side of him, and straightened like she’d been stung by a bee.

      Her hand went to her hair, smoothing it back from her face. “I fell asleep.” She grimaced. “How embarrassing. I hope I wasn’t drooling.”

      She hadn’t been, but knew he was damnably on the verge of it. “Snoring, maybe,” he said blandly.

      She gave him a narrow look, then rolled her eyes. “I was not.”

      No, she hadn’t been. She’d been soft and warm and the desire had hit him nearly out of the blue. He’d thought he’d conquered it a long time ago when she first started working for him. And he’d made a monumental ass out of himself by kissing her at one of the lowest points in his life.

      Good assistants were hard to find.

      Sexual partners weren’t.

      Fortunately, she’d turned her attention out the windows and he ran his hand around the back of his neck, feeling like he was ready to boil over.

      “Oh, my. Is that your brother’s ranch?” She was practically pressing her nose against the window like a little girl.

      Only thanks to the way she’d slept for the past hour with her body snuggled up against his, he knew that beneath the shapeless green sweater she’d changed into at her apartment before they’d gone to the airport, the little girl was all woman.

      “It’s so beautiful.” Fortunately, she was oblivious to his failure to comment. “It looks like it should be in an old movie. A Western.” She looked at him over her shoulder, her smile flashing. “With John Wayne striding over to the old hacienda. I can’t wait to see it when the sun is up.”

      Deanna was an excellent assistant and extremely good with marketing. Was it any wonder her imagination had gone into overdrive at the sight of his brother’s place? “Clearly, you need more sleep.”

      She turned up her nose and looked out the window again. The limousine halted in front of the house with its stone entrance and Moorish-style arch and without waiting for the driver, he pushed open the door and climbed out of the car. The drive from San Antonio hadn’t taken all that long, but he still felt stiff and cramped from being on the plane in the first place.

      Drew liked space.

      It was one of the reasons he liked living in San Diego so well. Whenever he wanted space around him, he just headed for the beach. How much more space could a man need when he was staring out at the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean?

      Still, his gaze ran over the house that his oldest brother had bought, pretty much out of the clear blue sky a few years ago, when he’d transplanted himself lock, stock and barrel from Los Angeles to Texas. J.R. had given up his position at the headquarters of Fortune Forecasting, as well as his designer suits and cars and coffee, in favor of jeans and cattle and pickups. He’d also quickly turned around and married Isabella Mendoza, who’d helped him decorate the place.

      It had been a year since Drew had last seen Molly’s Pride and even though it was well past midnight, he could see the property and the two-hundred-year-old hacienda gleamed with care.

      He pulled open Deanna’s door and she climbed out, her somewhat-awed gaze still focused on the house rather than Drew. Which was a good thing because he still felt like he was about ready to bust out of his jeans.

      Maybe it would’ve helped if she hadn’t changed. If she’d just stayed in that boxy, matronly looking suit that she’d worn to the office.

      All her suits were the same. They all disguised the fact that her rear was pretty much made for filling out a snug pair of soft blue denims.

      Annoyed with his thoughts, he left her to gather her tote and jacket and grabbed their few bags from the trunk when the driver opened it. “I’ve got ‘em. Thanks.” He gave the guy a generous tip that earned him an enthusiastic smile.

      “Thank you, Mr. Fortune. Happy New Year. You, too, ma’am.” The driver slammed the trunk shut and quickly climbed back behind the wheel, no doubt anxious to get on with his own celebrating. A moment later, the long vehicle was driving off, leaving him and Deanna standing there alone in the moonlight.

      It felt intensely … intimate. And despite the chill in the air, he felt hotter than ever.

      At any other time, he would have probably found the situation ironically humorous.

      Right now, he just felt like he was ready to put his head in a noose, and was almost—almost—glad to do it.

      She was watching him, her eyes looking dark and mysterious, though the way she moistened her lips warned him that she was more likely just nervous as hell. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”

      The only thing he was sure of right then was that he was having a heck of a time remembering why he should not be wanting her the way he was.

      He freshened his grip on her suitcase—one of those hard-sided kind of things invented long before rollers had come along—and turned toward the arched entrance, gesturing with his chin. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

      She moistened her lips again, leaving them even more softly shiny, and walked ahead of him through the arch that led to a massive wood door.

      “Better knock,” he advised. It was hours past the time he’d warned J.R. that he’d be arriving, and he figured walking in might not be such a good idea. God only knew if J.R. had taken to keeping loaded weapons at the ready along with his other Texas rancher ways …

      She reached out and knocked tentatively on the door.

      “Come on, Dee. They’re never gonna hear that.”

      She gave him a look, then curled her fist and knocked harder. “Satisfied?”

      Since he heard the slide of a lock a moment later, he just smiled at her. Then the door was swinging open and his brother appeared.

      “About damn time,” J.R. greeted, but there was still a faint smile on his face.

      “Good to see you, too,” Drew returned and then,