eyed him thoughtfully for a moment, but instead of pursuing his confession, she asked, “Are you suggesting that Kelly and Mac married for the wrong reasons?”
Garrett shrugged. “Well, it’s not exactly a love match when a man marries a woman who got herself knocked up by his little brother, is it?”
“Excuse me,” she said indignantly, quick to jump to her friend’s defense, “but a woman doesn’t get herself pregnant all alone, you know. Chad Fortune—that jerk—had a little something to do with the whole thing.”
Garrett expelled an impatient sigh. “Yeah, and now Mac is the one paying for it.”
“You make it sound like he was forced to marry Kelly against his will.”
“Wasn’t he?”
“Of course not. He was the one who made the offer.”
“And she was the one who jumped at the chance to be a Fortune wife.”
“Oh, come on,” Renee said, straightening to her full height of what couldn’t possibly be more than five feet four inches, clearly spoiling for a fight.
Garrett smiled the most predatory smile he could summon and straightened to his own six-feet-plus, fully ready to take her on.
But she didn’t back down. “The baby that Kelly is carrying is a Fortune. Why should she deny the little nipper its birthright?”
“Its birthright is Chad Fortune, not Mac,” Garrett pointed out. “But Chad’s always been good at leaving a mess for Mac to clean up.”
“A mess?” she echoed incredulously. “That’s what you call a pregnant woman who’s been abandoned by the baby’s father? A pregnant woman who was recently attacked, by unknown assailants, no less, and needs someone to keep an eye on her now? You think that’s a mess?”
He frowned. “You know what I meant.”
She nodded. “Yeah, unfortunately I do. You’re one of those snotty rich guys who think the only thing women want out of them is their money, and that said women will stop at nothing to get it. You never look at the big picture.”
“And you,” he countered, hating himself for rising so quickly to the bait, even if what she said did cut way too close to home, “are doubtless one of those greedy opportunists who think snagging a rich husband will insure a cushy life of ease where she’ll never have to lift a finger.”
She gaped at him, as if she were trying to decide whether to defend herself or return to defending her friend. Ultimately, gallantly, she chose the latter. “I think you’re wrong about Mac and Kelly. I think they make a good match.”
“They don’t love each other,” Garrett said.
She seemed to think seriously for a moment before replying, “Maybe, in the long run, that will make things easier for them. Maybe not having love in their relationship will make their union stronger.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Funny, but somehow, I had you pegged as the more romantic type. Hearts and flowers and love forever after. All that mushy stuff.”
She dropped her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, well, maybe you had me pegged wrong. Just because they didn’t marry for love doesn’t mean the commitment between Mac and Kelly isn’t strong. They had more to think about than love. They have a responsibility and obligation to an unborn child.”
She seemed struck by her own comment and lapsed into a thoughtful silence for another moment before continuing in a voice of enlightenment, “In fact, maybe it’s commitment that’s really most important in a marriage, you know? Not love, not passion but…responsibility. Obligation. Doing the right thing, I mean.”
“Gee, keep saying it over and over like that, and maybe eventually you’ll start to believe it,” Garrett said wryly, wondering why she was trying to convince herself of something even he could see she didn’t truly believe.
“No, really,” she insisted, glancing up. But she focused on something over his left shoulder and didn’t quite meet his eyes. “For centuries, marriage was used to fatten family fortunes and further political ambitions. Love never figured into it at all. And a lot of those marriages were probably just as enduring as the ones founded on love—more enduring, even. Today, still, there are probably lots of people who get married for reasons other than love.”
“Gee, you really think so?” Garrett asked dryly, knowing she didn’t think it for a moment. In spite of his conviction, however, she nodded vigorously. A little too vigorously, he thought.
“Yeah,” she said halfheartedly. “Probably.”
He nodded, too, deciding that if Renee Riley wanted to live in a world where obligation and responsibility were more important than romantic love, he sure as hell wasn’t going to dissuade her of the notion. Why should he, when he was of exactly the same opinion?
Still, for some reason, it bothered him to see a kid like her being jaded so young—especially when she probably hadn’t had a chance yet to be beaten down by life. Because everybody should get beaten down by life once in a while, right? What would be the fun otherwise? Sheesh.
Naturally, Garrett’s jadedness came from experience. He’d graduated at the top of his class from the school of hard knocks, by God, and he wore his diploma around his neck where everybody could see it. At this point in her life, Renee Riley wouldn’t even qualify for a partial scholarship to his alma mater. She was just too ingenuous-looking, too fresh, too seemingly nice a kid. And he found himself wondering what on earth had made her lose her romanticism so early on.
Ah, well. None of his business. He’d never see her again after tonight. So if she wanted to think there was a hope in hell of Kelly and Mac living happily ever after just because they’d made a commitment to each other, then Garrett didn’t see the harm.
She leaned against the wall and stared into space, as if she were giving serious thought to a matter that might have global repercussions. Garrett was about to say something that might alleviate the heaviness of the mood when, below them, the city erupted in celebration. Car horns blared, people shouted, and faintly, from somewhere far off, the soft strains of “Auld Lang Syne” crept through the stillness of the cold night air.
“Must be midnight,” he said, removing his hand from his pocket to verify his assumption with a glance at his watch. Sure enough, the second hand was just leaving the other two, which remained perched at twelve o’clock. “To the new year,” he added.
He smiled at Renee and lifted his half-full glass of champagne in a toast before moving it to his lips for a celebratory sip. As he lowered it, he realized she had nothing with which to welcome in the new year, so he extended the glass toward her in a silent offer.
After a moment’s hesitation and a brief shrug, she accepted it, tipping it toward her mouth—that red, ripe, luscious mouth—to enjoy a taste of the wine. After a single quick sip, she lifted it a second time, filling her mouth more generously. When she held the glass out to Garrett, he noted a perfect crescent-shaped stain of red on the rim where her lips had been. And deep down inside him, something tightened, raw and fierce.
“Happy New Year, Renee,” he said quietly, smiling as he took the glass from her fingers.
She
