When he was older, Ricky thought wistfully, he wanted to be exactly like Jorge Mendoza. The man was a god in his eyes.
Patrick Fortune rang in this New Year’s the very same way he rang in all the others since he’d met his bride: by kissing Lacey.
His arm rested comfortably around his still-beautiful wife’s shoulders as he surveyed the very crowded banquet hall. He recognized almost all the faces here, and that was his own doing—his and Maria Mendoza’s. It wasn’t every New Year’s Eve that he managed to gather together so many members of his family under one roof. Sadly, not all of his five children and their spouses could make it. But on the bright side, his brother William and William’s five children were all here, as well as Cynthia’s children.
Bolder than sunlight, Cynthia had always marched to a different drummer and made her own rules, usually as she went along. Still, he wished she’d taken him up on the invitation and come. He wanted all his siblings here, all his nieces and nephews as well as his own children. Not because he had any special announcement to make, but just because he felt the need for their presence.
Family was everything.
The older he became, the more inclined Patrick felt to forget any past grievances that might have once caused him to turn his back on one member of the family or another. Life was too short—and it was getting shorter all the time. He’d thought that his cousin Ryan would live forever and Ryan had been dead now for four years. It seemed impossible, and yet it was true.
He still missed the man a great deal.
The swish of Lacey’s dress as she turned toward him caught his attention.
“A penny for your thoughts,” she said, leaning in so that he could hear her. He’d looked entirely too pensive for the last few minutes and she wondered if there was anything wrong.
Patrick laughed at the way she’d asked her question. “And that,” he declared, his mouth curving in amusement, “is how our fortune continues to remain intact. Your frugality.”
“Very funny.” She threaded her arm through his as she looked up at him. He was still an exceptionally handsome man, she caught herself thinking. “Where are you right now?”
Patrick patted her arm. “Right here beside you, my love.” He sighed. “Just missing Ryan, that’s all. He used to love family gatherings like this.”
Ryan Fortune had been a good man who always saw the best in people. Lacey liked to think that Patrick was the same way. She tightened her hold on his arm. “He wouldn’t want you to be sad, Patrick.”
Lacey was right. As always. He supposed that what had triggered his thoughts was seeing Lily tonight—Ryan’s widow. Seeing her made him expect to see Ryan somewhere in her immediate vicinity. If only.
“No, you’re right, he wouldn’t. Just give me a minute to get my party face back in place,” he teased.
Just then, someone bumped into him, hard. If there had been any more space between him and Lacey, he might have actually fallen into her, bringing her down with him. Patrick turned to look at the man who had stumbled into him.
“Sorry,” the other man apologized. “I think I’ve had just a little too much to drink. I’m going to get some air,” he said by way of an excuse.
“Good idea,” Patrick agreed, addressing the words to the back of the man’s head. He stared after him for a second. There was something vaguely familiar about the man, but most likely, it could have just been his imagination. He shrugged his shoulders and returned to the party.
The man kept going, weaving his way in and out of the crowd, working his way to the front door. Once he was confident he was out of Patrick’s sight, his meandering gait ceased.
One down, he thought, a self-satisfied smirk playing along his thin lips.
Chapter Four
Jane still couldn’t quite believe how this evening had turned out. If it wasn’t such a cliché, she would have actually pinched herself to see if she was dreaming.
Jorge had not left her side since he came to ask her about refilling her drink and then remained to utterly rock her world.
She finally understood what that phrase meant. This had to be what Californians experienced when a 7.5 earthquake hit. Even though it was after one o’clock and the kiss that had all but turned her brain to mush, was an hour in the past, the ground beneath her feet still felt as if it were moving. Her insides were still in a state of flux.
But Jorge hadn’t moved on.
After he’d kissed her, all but burning off her lips, he’d stayed with her. Talked with her.
And made her feel beautiful.
Even when the man behind the bar had finally managed to get his attention and signaled to him in an obvious entreaty to return to his post, rather than seizing the excuse and leaving her, Jorge had laced his fingers through hers and had taken her along with him when he went to talk to the bartender.
“Hey, man, I need you to take over now,” Angel said to him, stripping off the black half apron he’d donned earlier.
Jorge made no effort to take the apron from him. Instead, he said, “Ask Carlos to take over,” mentioning the name of one of the waiters working this evening. “He owes me a favor.”
Angel sighed, stashing the apron beneath the bar for the time being. “If you say so.”
Jane felt a little guilty, taking Jorge away from the job he was supposed to be helping out with. “I’m keeping you.”
Jorge turned toward her and smiled into her eyes, creating yet another huge tidal wave inside her stomach. “If that’s what you want,” he murmured.
Jane forgot to breathe again.
When she remembered, after a beat, she tried to draw it in subtly and then release it slowly. She was sure he’d noticed.
God, but she was acting as sophisticated as an escapee from a fifteenth-century nunnery. She really was going to have to get a grip on herself.
But Jorge was like no other man she’d ever met.
He was still holding her hand and that, somehow, was impeding the flow of blood to her brain. She had to concentrate in order to think.
“No, I meant…” She searched for the right words. “That I’m taking you away from your work.”
“Not my work,” he corrected her. “I’m just helping out, remember?”
Right, she thought, he’d already said something about that, about being a businessman, an entrepreneur, not a bartender. Damn, her head felt like a sieve, with all the information she was receiving just leaking out of every pore. She wasn’t like this normally. Ordinarily, she absorbed details like a sponge and retained absolutely everything.
Not this time.
“And for the most part,” Jorge was saying, his low, sexy voice working its way under her skin, thrilling her, “the party’s beginning to wind down.”
Even as he said it, a wave of cold air wove through the room as the front doors opened and several people made their way out into the night. It was mild as far as winters around here went, but there was no denying that it was still cold.
More than anything, Jane didn’t want the evening to end. But even Cinderella had to go home at midnight, and she’d already beaten Cinderella’s record by an hour.
Without thinking, Jane ran the tip of her tongue along her lips. She could still taste him. If she closed her eyes, she could still