Free Fortune's Legacy by Maureen Child

be out at the ranch with the rest of the family. Helping. Praying. Doing something.
    But maybe, she thought, as she set the phone down and scooted off the four-poster bed, going on this trip was exactly what Ryan would expect. He’d always kept his promises. He’d managed to have both a family and a career. And what better way could she show her appreciation for all he’d been than to carry on just as he’d always done?
    Grimly, she shoved the rest of her things into the black leather bag and zipped it closed. Then she dragged it off the bed and wheeled it to the front door.
    Grabbing up her purse, she headed out to keep her appointment with Garrett Wolff.
    Because Fortunes never quit.

Six
    â€œI f you have to fly, this is really the only way to do it.” Kyra sat back in the plush cream-colored leather seat, planted the toe of one stylish pump against the thick carpet and gave her chair a little swivel.
    Garrett stared at her from across the plane. “You don’t like flying, I take it?”
    â€œNot particularly,” she admitted, and silently called herself a whopping great liar. She hated flying. Absolutely loathed it, with a bone-deep fear that started as she boarded a jet, and didn’t let loose until she’d landed again and was in a taxi headed away from the airport.
    It just wasn’t natural, she always told herself. Something as heavy as a jet should not be able to stay up inthe air. Gravity, after all, was a pretty convincing fact of science. What went up always came down. And not necessarily when planned.
    But she’d never been one to give in to her fears. So she stepped onto planes regularly and then held her breath until she was safely back on the ground where she belonged.
    One corner of Garrett’s mouth lifted. “Didn’t notice any loud praying or chanting.”
    She smiled briefly. “Hey, I’m no hypocrite. I figure since I don’t spend much time praying ordinarily, God wouldn’t like it much if I jumped down his throat just because I’m on a plane.”
    â€œYou think the Almighty is paying that close attention?”
    â€œIf he is, I sure don’t want to be in a plane when I offend him.”
    â€œGood point,” Garrett acknowledged. Then he asked, “So why don’t you like flying? It’s safer than—”
    â€œDriving on the highways,” she finished for him in a rote, singsong voice. “Yes, I’ve heard those statistics. But the thing is, if you fall out of a car, it’s a much shorter drop.”
    â€œSo it’s the altitude that bothers you.”
    â€œA big part of it, sure,” she acknowledged, and resolutely kept her gaze from straying to one of the windows. On a commercial flight she always reserved an aisle seat. She claimed, to anyone who asked, that she liked the extra room for her long legs and that she didn’t want to have to climb over anyone if she needed tomake a restroom run. But the simple truth was she didn’t want to be able to look out a window.
    Bad enough to know you’re thirty thousand feet up. No reason to have to look down, too.
    Garrett was still gazing at her, waiting for her to finish, so she added, “I don’t like the idea of not being in control.”
    â€œThere’s a surprise.”
    One blond eyebrow winged up and Kyra tilted her head to examine him more closely. “Was that humor?”
    He took a sip of coffee and looked from her to the file opened across his lap and back again. “Probably not.”
    â€œNo,” she said, feeling a little of the airborne tension draining away. “I suppose not.”
    Interesting. A flash of warmth in a man she’d always thought to be stone cold. But then, she’d sensed plenty of warmth that night at Rio’s, hadn’t she? Warmth and interest and—
    Kyra shifted uneasily in her seat, then tensed slightly as the plane hit a patch of turbulence. A lesser