Tailspin

“More lines around your eyes,” she said with her usual knack for reading his mind. “And twice so far this evening, I’ve seen you gaze off into space. Admit it. I was right. You’re regretting your decision to request a teaching assignment at the Air Force Academy.”

“Not true,” he said.

She held a hand up. “Let me finish. After all, I was responsible for your decision.”

“Partly responsible. Have you ever thought that I might have needed to come home? That maybe I was a bit restless and bored before I learned about your surgery?”

She stared at him for a moment.

Nash fully sympathized with her surprise. It was the first time he’d admitted to himself that his current feeling of…restlessness may have predated his teaching assignment. He might have been courting boredom even in Afghanistan.

She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got the same problem your father had when he was about your age. Our country’s wars are winding down. And you’re getting older. You’re starting to see that you can’t fly those fighter planes forever. I imagine facing the young men and women who’ll replace you in the classroom each day drives the point home even more sharply. So I’ll tell you what I told your father. You can’t stop time. You have to accept it and go with the flow.”

He raised his brows.

Her lips twitched again. “I know. It’s my milestone birthday we’re celebrating, but your thirtieth wasn’t that long ago. And you can’t be a fly-boy forever. Your father was getting a bit bored with the life of a pilot in peace time before the Gulf War erupted.”

Nash captured one of her hands in his again. As usual, she was spot-on about some of what he was feeling.

“You could always think of making a career change.”

He met her eyes without disguising the surprise in his. From the time he’d been a child, she’d supported his dream of one day following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a pilot in the Air Force. She’d never once put any kind of pressure on him to consider taking over one of the many companies she ran—in spite of the fact that when she’d lost his father, she’d lost the son she’d expected to one day fill her shoes.

He narrowed his eyes as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Something has changed. You’ve received some bad news from your doctors.”

“No, nothing like that. I’m fine. I’d tell you in a heartbeat if I wasn’t.” Maggie raised the hand holding hers and patted it. “I’m just planting a seed about the future. It’s my birthday. I have a right to plant seeds.”

Nash laughed. “You have the right to plant seeds whenever you want.” And they had a tendency to take root and grow. Johnny Appleseed had nothing on his grandmother in that department. But he was beginning to wonder just what seed she’d intended to plant when she’d brought him up here to the balcony.

Maggie continued to meet his gaze. “I also have a right to worry. And perhaps feel a bit guilty.”

“Guilty? About what?”

“Your intolerance of boredom is probably embedded in a gene you’ve inherited directly from me. None of the Nashes were long on patience. And your impatience as a baby is how you came to be called by your middle name. When what you’ve inherited from my side of the family is mixed in with what you’ve inherited from the black sheep on the Fortune side of the family. Well?” She threw up her hands. “It’s worrisome.”

“You’re not planning on giving me the Jeremiah Fortune lecture again?”

Her eyes widened. “You remember him, then?”

His eyes narrowed. “If you can call up the names of my pet gerbils, I can certainly remember Jeremiah’s. You were always lecturing me that if I didn’t mend my ways, I’d grow up to be just like him instead of my father. I also remember that when I sassed you by asking just how badly a Fortune heir could turn out, you filled me in on my ancestor’s untimely and grim demise.”

Maggie remembered every detail of what she’d told him. The story was a good one, and she’d used it ruthlessly. Jeremiah had been the younger brother of Nash’s great-great-great-grandfather, the first Thaddeus. Though the details were sketchy, the story had the drama of a soap opera. After the two Fortune brothers had settled in Colorado and discovered a rich vein of gold, they’d argued over a woman. Tradition held that Thaddeus had won the woman and Jeremiah had run off to prospect for more gold on his own. Two years later he’d been hanged as a horse thief.

“Time to come clean, Grams,” Nash said. “You didn’t call me up here to remind me that I might have a few genes from a black sheep in my DNA. What’s the real reason?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the real reason making her way across the terrace below them. Bianca Quinn had arrived right on schedule. Even now, Father Mike was raising his hand in greeting. Thank heavens Nash wasn’t looking out at the party anymore. Because she hadn’t finished yet. “I want a favor.”

“Anything.”

“I’ve hired a writer and commissioned her to write a book on the history of the Fortune family. There’ll be an emphasis on the early years, but she’s going to chronicle the entire saga right up to the present.”

She noted surprise flicker in his eyes, then curiosity.

“Aren’t you nervous about dragging all of the skeletons out of the closet?”

Maggie laughed. “I think it should prove highly amusing. Scandals sell.”

“I’m assuming you checked out this writer’s credentials.”

“Not to worry. I had your friend Gabe run a thorough background check. And she’s good. Her first book made the Times extended book list.”

“It sounds like you’re right on top of everything, as usual. How can I help?”

She beamed a smile at him. “I want you to cooperate fully with her. She’ll want to interview you as the current Fortune heir and one of Denver’s most eligible bachelors. And she’s been away from Denver for a while. I just want you to make her feel as comfortable as possible while she’s settling in to work on the project. Be nice to her.”

Maggie was careful to keep her expression bland, but she hadn’t raised a fool. Nash knew that she was up to something. She also figured that by now Bianca had joined Father Mike and Nash’s friends at the far end of the pool. So it was nearly time.

“You’re worrying me, Grams. Just how ugly is she? And even if she were, why would you think I wouldn’t be nice to her?”

“Because the woman I’ve hired to write the Fortune family saga is Bianca Quinn. She’s just arrived and she’s joined your friends.”

Nash whipped his gaze back to the group he and his grandmother had left earlier at the far end of the pool. His eyes fastened on her immediately. A tall blonde, slim as a wand in a white sundress. Though her back was to him, recognition instantly flooded his system. So did the memories. Feelings he’d buried long ago shot to the surface. A mix of love, desire, anger and hurt froze him to the spot.

Unable to move, he absorbed the long slender legs, the narrow waist, the honey-colored hair that fell to her shoulders. He’d known every inch of her and he hadn’t forgotten a single detail. She matched perfectly with the image that he hadn’t been aware he still carried in his mind.

What the hell was it doing there?

Then, as if she were aware of his gaze on her, she turned and glanced up at the balcony. Like a two-fisted punch to the gut, he felt desire, hot and raw. Not a memory, this time. The real thing.

Then he couldn’t think at all. It was as if no time at all had passed. The impulse to go to her was so strong. He wasn’t aware until he felt the warmth of Maggie’s hands on one of his that he’d gripped the balcony railing.

Glancing down, he noted the whiteness of his knuckles. What had been his plan? To just leap onto the terrace and run to her?

No way. Time had passed. He wasn’t a nineteen-year-old anymore. Nash drew in a deep breath and let it out. No other woman had ever affected him the way Bianca Quinn had. Evidently, she still could.

He drew in another breath. He was older now. And he knew a lot more about women than he had at nineteen.

So he’d handle her. For his grandmother’s sake. But it wasn’t his promise to his grandmother that kept his eyes lingering on Bianca. Without thinking he touched a finger to his chest just where the medal lay beneath his uniform. He’d find a way to handle her.

Turning to Maggie, he smiled. “I’ll be happy to give her an interview. Why don’t we join the party?”

2

Five minutes earlier…

WITH NERVELESS FINGERS, Bianca Quinn handed the keys of her car over to the valet.

“Welcome to Fortune Mansion, Miss Quinn.”

At her surprised look, he smiled. “Ms. Fortune said you’d be arriving right about now. She asked us to keep an eye out for you. Just follow the lighted path around the side of the house. The party’s in the garden and you’re in plenty of time for the birthday cake. Enjoy.”

Enjoy. Maybe she could once she got through this first meeting with Nash Fortune. The path was only a few feet to her right, and she could hear the sound of laughter and the faint strains of Vivaldi. But for a moment she simply couldn’t make herself move.

She’d read about déjà vu, but she’d never before realized the physical impact it might have. For just an instant she felt transported back in time to that fateful day eleven years ago when she’d stood on this very spot. She’d sensed then that her life was about to change.

It had.

And she felt the same way now.

As ridiculous as it was, she couldn’t immediately shake off the feeling, nor could she seem to drag her gaze away from the Fortune Mansion’s stone and glass facade.

But she would no longer allow it to intimidate her. The new bargain she’d struck with Maggie Fortune was entirely different from the one she’d made eleven years ago when she’d promised to disappear from Nash Fortune’s life. The new one was strictly business. She was going to research and write a history of the Fortune family in Colorado.

A family saga wasn’t the type of book she usually wrote. And as lucrative as Maggie’s offer was, she would have turned it down if it hadn’t been for two things. First, she was intrigued by the story, sketchy as it was, of the two Fortune brothers who’d discovered gold in the 1860s and started a dynasty. She had a gut feeling that if she just dug a little deeper, she would find something, and her hunches were seldom wrong.

Her second reason for accepting Maggie’s deal was one that the woman had pointed out to her—she could kill two birds with one stone. She had to come to the Denver area anyway to begin seriously researching her latest true crime book—the real story behind the disappearance of Cadet Brian Silko from the Air Force Academy more than a decade ago. Just as she had with her first book, she would visit the scene of the crime, so to speak—in this case, the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs.

Not that she was sure a crime had been committed. But she had a strong hunch that there had been some kind of cover-up. And it might still be going on. When she’d called the superintendent of the Air Force Academy to ask for an interview concerning Brian’s disappearance, he’d refused to even speak with her on the phone. In her experience, when someone didn’t want to talk, it was because they had something to hide.

And the person who’d sent her the three anonymous notes agreed.

She hadn’t thought of Brian Silko in years. Not until two months ago when she’d been doing a book-signing in a Barnes & Noble in Chicago. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d seen a tall young woman with dark hair slip a note under a pile of her books. The message had been concise: “For your next book, why don’t you find out the true story behind Cadet Brian Silko’s disappearance from the Air Force Academy eleven years ago?”

Of course, she’d recognized the name right away. Brian had been a year ahead of her in junior high and she’d interviewed him for an article in the school newspaper. It was right before his family had moved to Phoenix. Her story had focused on Brian’s love of flying and his dream of one day attending the Air Force Academy.

Brian Silko had achieved his dream. He’d been in Nash’s class their freshman year at the academy. They’d both played for the Falcons, the academy’s football team. Then in the spring, Brian had stolen a small plane from the airfield and completely vanished.

It had been all over the news. She and Nash had talked about it, of course, but they’d been too involved with each other to pay much notice. No one had discovered why Brian had done what he’d done. And no one had ever found him or the wreckage of the plane.

The second anonymous note, postmarked from Denver, had been sent to her editor a few days later. He’d urged her to at least do some preliminary research. But she’d already started on that. Brian’s mother had died a year ago, and she’d hadn’t been able to locate his sister yet. What she’d found in the press coverage hadn’t been anything more than she’d known at the time. No one seemed to know why Brian had suddenly stolen that plane or where he might have gone. And within a month, the press had forgotten about him.

So had she for over a decade.

Bianca had been well and truly hooked when the third note arrived bearing the postmark of the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs—it stated that Brian was alive. If that was true, why hadn’t he been found or come forward? And what had made him give up his dream of graduating from the Air Force Academy? There was a story here all right, and she was going to start by locating the people who’d known Brian the year he’d disappeared. One of those people was Nash Fortune.

And you’re afraid to see him again.

Bianca drew in a deep breath and let it out. She was being ridiculous. She had nothing to fear from Nash Fortune because she was no longer that naive seventeen-year-old girl who could be completely swept away by what she felt for a man. Nor was she that young girl with a dream of one day becoming a published writer.

She was a writer. “A top-rate investigative journalist,” one of her reviews had read. Her first book, Cover Up, had made the Times extended list and her publisher had already accepted the proposal for her second book on Brian Silko.

Straightening her shoulders, she shifted her gaze to the path leading to the garden. All she had to do was focus on her work. Nash’s current teaching assignment at the Air Force Academy could prove to be very helpful. At the very least, he could share his insights into the kind of person Brian had been. And like his grandmother, Nash could open doors for her by putting her in contact with others at the academy who might know something. What had happened between them had ended long ago. Water under the bridge. He’d certainly forgiven her by now for running away.

Perhaps he’d even forgotten her. They’d been young and foolish and totally unsuited for one another. Her Aunt Molly, the woman who’d raised her from the time she’d been orphaned at the age of three, had been a cleaning woman at the St. Francis Center for Boys. Nash Fortune had been the grandson of one of the richest women in the United States.

But you haven’t forgotten him, nagged that little voice again.

Maybe not. Nash had been her first love. A woman always remembered her first. There was the guilt factor, too. She’d been the one to call things off. She was the one who’d run away.

That was why she was making the whole thing into a mountain—and Nash would be viewing it as a molehill. Surely, now that they were both adults who were living their dreams, he would see that she’d made the right decision.

Still, she’d taken money for what she’d done. She might not have signed the papers and taken Maggie’s check if Father Mike Flynn hadn’t been there standing at the older woman’s side. And they’d made it so easy for her. All she had to do was leave a note for Nash near the statue of St. Francis in the little prayer garden at the center.

And it wasn’t just money Maggie had offered her. It had been an acceptance letter from a college in the Boston area where she could major in writing. There’d also been a job for her Aunt Molly in one of Maggie’s companies that had a branch office in Cambridge. Maggie Fortune was as skillful as the serpent in Eden when it came to offering the right bait.

Bianca fisted her hands at her sides. Bribe or not, she’d been right to do what she’d done. She’d gone off to college and Nash had been able to continue at the Air Force Academy without the burden of a teenage wife in Denver.

No matter that it had hurt so much at the time. Nor that there was a little place in her heart that still ached.

The important thing was that they’d both achieved their dreams and might not have if she hadn’t made that bargain eleven years ago.

So what are you so afraid of?

Good question.

She pressed a hand to her stomach and willed her nerves to settle. She had a plan. She’d arrived in Denver two days ago, settled herself in a hotel, and even visited the Colorado Springs Police Department to look over their files on the Silko disappearance. Tonight’s meeting with Nash was just another step. She’d set up an interview with him and use the time to probe his relationship with Brian as well as his position as the sole heir to the Fortune riches.

A few days from now she was going to laugh about what a non-issue meeting him again had turned out to be.

Stepping away from the willow tree, she strode down the path toward the laughter and the music. The important thing was to find out what had really happened to Cadet Brian Silko and write his story.

The moment she stepped onto the flagstone terrace, Bianca paused to scan the crowd. She had to hand it to Maggie Fortune. The woman knew how to throw a party. At the far end of the pool, she caught a glimpse of the musicians, and she thought they’d switched to Mozart. But it was hard to tell above the laughter and conversation.

White-jacketed waiters carrying trays of fluted glasses cut paths through the clusters of guests. She spotted a senior state senator whose name frequently made the news. She was pretty sure she recognized an aging film star she’d had a crush on when she was thirteen, and there were at least two men who’d retired from hosting network evening news.

“Miss Quinn?”

Bianca turned to a tall, very distinguished-looking man at her side. She guessed him to be in his early seventies. He had gray, thinning hair, and in his perfectly tailored gray suit, he reminded her of the actor Walter Pigeon, who’d appeared in the original Thin Man movies.

“I’m Grady, Ms. Fortune’s house manager. She’s stepped inside for a moment and she asked me to greet you in her place. You’ll find Father Flynn and some other people you might remember over on the other side of the pool.”

“Thank you.” Bianca started to thread her way in the direction that Grady had pointed, but it took her a few moments before she spotted Father Mike. The instant he saw her, he smiled and waved. At once, something inside of her eased.

She’d originally met him through her Aunt Molly. On Saturdays, she’d frequently helped her aunt to clean the St. Francis Center. At the end of her junior year in high school, Father Mike had offered her the job of writing the newsletter for the center. It had been her first official writing job, and she could never thank him enough for the opportunity.

Working on the newsletter had also given her the opportunity to get to know him, and he was the kindest and most truly holy person she’d ever met. He’d even taken the time to fly east to visit her and her aunt during the first few years she’d been in college. And when her aunt had passed on two years ago, he’d flown in to say the funeral mass.

As Bianca began to weave her way toward him, she shifted her gaze to the people he was with. That was all it took to set her nerves dancing again. The pretty young woman was a stranger, but in spite of the passage of time, she recognized the two men immediately. Gabe Wilder and Jonah Stone had been Nash’s best friends at the St. Francis Center.

Gabe wore black. That had been his favorite color in high school, but the shirts hadn’t been silk back then. But Jonah’s clothes also had her taking a second look. He’d been a jeans-and-T-shirt kind of boy, but the suit he was wearing today had been tailored to fit his tall, lanky frame perfectly, and she was pretty sure it boasted a designer label. He definitely wasn’t the rough-edged street kid she remembered.

As she drew closer, Father Mike held out his arms and she walked right into them.

“Welcome back,” he murmured. “You must come and visit me soon so we can catch up.”

“I will,” she promised as he released her. It was at that precise moment she felt the hairs on the back of her neck spring to attention.

Nash.

She could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin, and the moment she turned her head, she saw him. He stood next to his grandmother on a balcony overlooking the terrace and pool. Her heart started to pound, her breath caught in her throat. He was tall and blond and just as handsome as the image she’d had in her mind all these years.

The fact that he was wearing his uniform did nothing at all to lessen the intensity of his effect on her senses. But it wasn’t until she met his eyes that she felt the full impact. Everything inside of her heated as her mind emptied and simply filled with him. Pleasure shot through her, along with the beginnings of that same primitive and urgent desire she’d felt for him all those years ago.

With it came the impulse to forget every thing else and just go to him. She was not naturally impulsive, but he’d always had that effect on her, making her want to toss the world away and go into freefall just to be with him. He still had the power to make her feel that way. Baffled, she fought hard to keep her feet firmly planted where they were. But she might have lost the battle if he hadn’t chosen that moment to turn to his grandmother.

Even then, it took all of her concentration to turn her own head and focus as Father Mike said, “You must remember Gabe and Jonah.”

“Yes.” The word was barely audible and Bianca reminded herself to smile.

“Welcome back to Denver,” Gabe said.

Jonah merely nodded.

In spite of the friendliness of Gabe’s words, cool wariness was what she saw in the eyes of both men. Of course, both of them had been close to Nash when she’d run out on him. Clearly, they hadn’t forgotten. But when Father Mike introduced her to Gabe’s fiancée, Nicola Guthrie, the young woman’s handshake was warm, her smile genuine. “Are you the Bianca Quinn who wrote Cover Up?”

“I am.”

“What a delight to meet you. Gabe mentioned he knew you when I starting raving about your book.”

“Nicola’s a true fan of your investigative technique,” Gabe said.

“I was going to write you a letter,” Nicola said. “I told my father that we ought to recruit you to work for the FBI.”

“I’m a researcher and a writer, not a crime fighter,” Bianca said.

“We could still benefit from your skills.” Nicola turned to Jonah. “You have to read Cover Up. It all takes place in this little town in upstate New York, not far from Cornell University. The last place you’d expect there would be a home invasion and grisly murders. And the police solved it in record time—or they thought they had. One suspect was shot to death by the police, the other tried, convicted and sentenced to jail. The real killer would have gotten away if Bianca hadn’t decided to write about it.”

Nicola turned back to Bianca. “How did you come to choose that particular story?”

“Someone brought it to my attention when I attended a conference in the area, and I got a feeling, a hunch, that there was a story there.”

“I knew you’d make a good agent. Following hunches is essential in good investigative work.”

Jonah turned to Bianca. “What brings you back to Denver?”

It didn’t surprise Bianca one bit that Jonah was the one to ask that question. He’d let her know eleven years ago that he hadn’t approved of her relationship with Nash. The rough kid from the streets was territorial when it came to his friends, and he never believed in beating around the bush.