Fortune's Perfect Valentine

by Stella Bagwell

  “Do you have any idea what sort of questions the interviewer will be asking? I’d like to be prepared.”

  “You’ve had plenty to say on the subject during our meeting this morning,” he told her. “And I’m sure you won’t have any problem speaking your mind tomorrow. You’ll simply explain the product and how it works. I’ll speak for Robinson Tech and what the company stands for. The national exposure will be great.”

  She dropped the notepad to her lap, but Wes’s gaze lingered on the subtle curves of her breasts beneath the white shirt. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He didn’t need to be ogling this woman. There were always plenty of women in his little black book who were ready to go out on a date with him. He certainly didn’t need to start having romantic notions about Vivian.

  “Yes, the publicity is just what the app needs,” she said primly. “I only hope everything goes smoothly.”

  Annoyed at his straying thoughts, he frowned at her. “Why should it not?”

  Clearing her throat, she said, “I’ve never been on television before.”

  He leveled a pointed look at her. “I’m sure there are plenty of things you’ve never done before, Ms. Blair. And there’s always a first time for everything.”

  She straightened her shoulders, and once again Wes spotted a flash of anger in her eyes.

  “You’re very reassuring,” she said.

  “I’m not your caretaker, Ms. Blair.”

  “Thank God.”

  The words were muttered so quietly that at first Wes wasn’t sure he heard them. And once he’d concluded he’d heard correctly, he couldn’t quite believe she’d had the audacity to say them.

  “What did you say?” he demanded.

  Louder now, she answered, “I said, are we finished here?”

  Any other time he would’ve upbraided an employee for making such a retort, but seeing Vivian Blair turn into a firecracker right in front of his eyes had knocked him off kilter.

  “Yes. Be here in my office no later than eight forty-five in the morning. I don’t want any glitches or mishaps happening before the interview.”

  “I’ll certainly be on time.”

  She quickly rose to her feet and started toward the door. Before Wes could stop himself, he added, “And Ms. Blair, tomorrow for the interview, could you not look so—studious? My Perfect Match is all about romance. It might help if you—well, looked the part a bit more.”

  Her back went ramrod straight as she fixed him with a stare. “In other words, sex sells,” she retorted. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

  To a woman like Vivian, he supposed he sounded crude. But she should have understood that this was all about business. Still, something about the disdain on her face caused a wave of heat to wash up his neck and over his jaw. He could only hope the overhead lighting was too dim for her to pick up his discomfort.

  Clearing his throat, he purposely swiveled his chair so that he was facing her. He’d be damned if he let this woman make him feel the least bit ashamed.

  “Ms. Blair, there’s no cause for you to be offended. I’m not trying to exploit you or your gender. I’m trying to sell an idea. Having you look attractive and pretty can only help the matter.”

  Even from the distance of a few feet, he could see her heave out a long breath. For one split second he was so tempted to see that fire in her eyes again that he almost left his chair and walked over to her. But he forced himself to stay put and behave as her boss, instead of a hot-blooded male.

  Tilting her little chin to a challenging angle, she asked brusquely, “And what about your effort in all of this, Mr. Robinson? Do you plan to wax your chest and unbutton your shirt down to your waist?”

  It took Wes a moment to digest her questions, but once they sank in, his reaction was to burst out laughing.

  “Touché, Vivian. I expect I deserved that.”

  “I expect you did,” she said flatly, then turned and left the room.

  As Wes watched the door close behind her, he realized this was the first time in days that he’d laughed about anything. Strange, he thought, that a brainy employee had been the one to put a smile on his face.

  Shaking his head with wry disbelief, he turned his chair back to the desk and reached for a stack of reports.

  *

  By the time Vivian returned to her work cubicle, she felt certain that steam was shooting from her ears. Before today, she’d never allowed herself to think of Wes Robinson as anything other than her boss. She’d kept herself immune to his dark good looks. A rather easy task, given the fact that he was so far out of her league, she needed a telescope to see him. But their meeting this morning had definitely given her a full view of the man. And what she’d seen she certainly disliked.

  “Hey, Viv, ready for lunch?”

  Pressing fingertips to the middle of her puckered forehead, she looked over her shoulder to see George Townsend standing at the entrance of her work cubicle. In his early fifties, he was a tall, burly man with red hair and a thick beard to match. Other than a set of elderly parents who lived more than a thousand miles away, he had no family. Instead, he seemed content to let his work be his family. Most everyone in the developmental department considered George a social recluse. Except Vivian.

  During the years they’d worked together, she’d grown close to George. Now she considered him as much of a brother as she did a coworker. And she was thankful for their friendship. In her opinion, the man was not only a computer genius but also a kind human being. He didn’t care about her appearance. Nor was he interested in the size of her apartment or bank account.

  “Is it that time already? I’m not really hungry yet.” Actually, the way she felt at the moment, she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach any kind of food for the remainder of the day. Thoughts of Wes Robinson’s smart-mouthed remarks were still making her blood boil.

  “It’s nearly twelve,” he said with a frown, then added temptingly, “and I brought enough dewberry cobbler for the both of us, too.”

  Sighing, she put down her pencil and rose to her feet. For George’s sake, she’d do her best to have lunch and try to appear normal.

  “Okay,” she told him. “Let me log out and we’ll go.”

  Once she left her desk, the two of them walked through the work area until they reached a fair-sized break room equipped with a row of cabinets, refrigerator, microwave, hot plate and coffee machine.

  Even though it was lunchtime, only a handful of people were sitting at the long utility tables. Since Robinson Tech was located in downtown Austin, most of the employees who worked in Vivian’s department went out to lunch. There were several good eating places within walking distance and they all strived to give quick service to the workers on a limited time schedule. But usually Vivian chose to bring her own lunch and remain in the building.

  “Looks like most of your friends are out today,” George said as the two of them took seats across from each other. “Guess they don’t mind walking in the cold.”

  Vivian didn’t mind the cold, either. But she did mind sitting at a table with a group of giggling women with little more on their minds than the latest hairdo, a nail salon or a man.

  “The wind was very cold this morning,” she agreed. “I was already here at the building before the heater in my car ever got warm.”

  As she’d readied herself for work this morning, she’d also dressed more warmly in dark gray slacks and dress boots. The gray cardigan she’d pulled over her white shirt had looked perfectly appropriate to her, but now, as she glanced down at herself, she was doubting her fashion choices.

  Damn Wes Robinson! What did he know about women and sex and romance, anyway?

  Probably a whole lot more than you do, Vivian. It’s been weeks since you’ve been on a date, and that evening turned out to be as exciting as watching a caterpillar slowly climb a blade of green grass.

  “Well, Mr. Robinson’s office must have been plenty warm,” George commented between bites of sandw
ich. “You looked pretty hot when you got back to your desk.”

  Vivian shot her friend an annoyed look. “You noticed?”

  He smiled. “I just happened to look up. Did anything go wrong with the meeting?”

  She let out a heavy breath. “I just don’t agree with some of the man’s ideas, that’s all. And frankly, I’ll be glad when the introduction of My Perfect Match is over and done with. I’m a computer developer, George. I don’t work in advertising.”

  “But you are going to do the TV spot in the morning, aren’t you?”

  The smirk on her face revealed exactly how she felt about being on a national television show that pulled in millions of viewers each morning. “I have no choice. Wes—I mean, Mr. Robinson—wants me to explain how the app works.”

  “Well, it is your brainchild,” George reasoned.

  Reaching across the table, she gave his hand a friendly pat. “I could’ve never created the app without your help, George. You’re the wizard here. As far as I’m concerned, you can explain how the thing works far better than I.”

  He chuckled. “Only the technical parts. All those questions and what they’re supposed to do for the person answering them—well, that’s more your line.”

  Vivian had stood in line for nearly ten minutes this morning at Garcia’s Deli just to get one of Mr. Garcia’s delicious pork sandwiches called the Cuban Cigar, but now each bite she took seemed to stick at the top of her throat.

  Shaking her head, she said, “Not really. Those questions were compiled by a set of psychologists who are experts in human relationships. But I do believe in them. And you should, too, George. Otherwise, our little brainchild will be a bust.”

  And after the way she’d defended the new app to her cynical boss, seeing it fall flat would just about kill her.

  He shrugged one thick shoulder. “I’m not worried. We’ve developed some stinkers before and survived. Not everything we create is going to be a huge success.”

  No. In this age of fast-moving technology, it was hard to predict what the public would spend its hard-earned money on. Yet Vivian knew first-hand that being lonely was a painful thing. Her many failures at finding true love were the main reason she’d come up with My Perfect Match. At the age of twenty-eight, she would be silly to consider herself an old maid, yet she was growing tired of playing the dating game and falling short of having any sort of meaningful relationship to show for it. Her own frustration led her to believe there were plenty of lonely people out there who’d be willing to give the app a try.

  “That’s true. But I’ve really stuck my neck on the chopping block for this project. More than anything, I want it to be a huge success. That’s why I can’t falter in the interview tomorrow.”

  George’s coarse, ruddy features spread into a reassuring smile. “Don’t think about your nerves. Just look into the camera and pretend you’re talking to me. You’ll be great.”

  Great? Sitting in front of a television camera with Wes Robinson at her side? She’d count herself lucky to simply hold herself together.

  Chapter Two

  Back in Wes’s office, he was just hanging up the phone with the marketing department when his twin brother, Ben, walked through the door.

  “Looks like I need to have a long talk with my secretary.” He leaned back in the desk chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Normally, Adelle knows better than to let riffraff come into my office unannounced.”

  Clearly amused by his brother’s sardonic jab, Ben walked over and rested the corner of his hip on Wes’s desk. Dressed in a dapper gray suit and burgundy patterned tie, Ben was every inch the business man and more like their father than Wes would ever want to be. Full of brass and swagger, Ben went after anything and everything he wanted with the ferocity of a stalking tiger.

  For a while after their father, Gerald, had appointed Ben the new COO of Robinson Tech, Wes had felt worse than slighted. He’d been cut to the core. As vice president of the developmental team, Wes was adept at presiding over operations, generating revenue, analyzing financial reports and motivating staff, along with a jillion other responsibilities that went along with the job. He could’ve handled the COO position with his eyes closed.

  But Gerald had chosen to hand it to his elder twin. And to Wes the reason had been blatantly obvious. Because Ben was their father’s favorite. Which wasn’t hard to understand, given the fact that Ben had the same aggressive business tactics as their father, while Wes considered hard work and integrity the best way to climb the corporate ladder.

  Grinning, Ben said, “I’m glad to see you’re getting your wit back.”

  “I wasn’t aware I’d ever lost it,” Wes quipped.

  Ben thoughtfully picked up a paperweight and held it up to the florescent light. The hunk of gray glass was the shape of a dove, and Wes wondered if Ben was thinking the bird matched his younger twin. No doubt their father would say Wes was the peaceful dove of the two, while Ben was a fierce hawk. The idea stung far more than Wes wanted to admit.

  “Hmm. Ever since I got the COO position, you’ve been about as warm as a polar bear. I thought you’d be over Dad’s decision by now.”

  Wes inwardly bristled while trying to make sure his expression remained bland. No one could rankle him more than his twin, but he hardly wanted Ben to know that. The man was already smug enough.

  “I was over it five minutes after Dad’s decision was announced,” Wes told him.

  Ben’s expression said he found Wes’s statement laughable. Which came as no surprise. From the years when they were small boys until now, the two of them had been rivals in everything, including their parents’ love and admiration. And Wes supposed he’d spent most all of his thirty-three years trying to prove he was equal or better than his slightly older brother.

  “If that’s the case, then why have you been giving me the cold shoulder?”

  “That’s all in your mind,” Wes told him.

  Placing the dove back on the desk, Ben rose to his feet and walked over to the wall of plate glass. Wes watched as his brother stood in a wide stance, his hands linked at his back as he stared out at the city skyline.

  “If it’s not the COO position that’s bothering you, then you’re upset with me about my search for our Fortune heritage. I would’ve thought you’d want to know Keaton Whitfield is our half brother.”

  Wesley heaved out a weary breath. Crashing Kate Fortune’s ninetieth birthday party and creating a scandalous scene had been bad enough. But Ben hadn’t stopped there. He’d set out on a wild search to dig up hidden branches of the family tree, and in doing so, he’d already unearthed one of their father’s illegitimate children.

  “I don’t have any complaints about Keaton—not personally. It’s you and this dogged search you’re making. Just for once I wish you’d stop and consider Mother’s feelings in this matter. How do you think all of this makes her feel? Can you imagine the pain and humiliation she must feel to know that her husband cheated on her, not just once, but probably many times?”

  “Damn it, Wes, I’m not on a quest to punish our mother. I want Dad’s rightful place in the Fortune family to be reestablished. I want the Fortunes, especially Kate, to have to acknowledge the truth publicly.”

  Wes snorted. “The truth! Regarding our father, we don’t know what the hell the truth might be. Dad is hiding things about his past. Rachel already figured out that much when she found some of Dad’s old correspondence and the driver’s license with his name listed as Jerome Fortune. But as far as I’m concerned, Dad can keep his secrets. I’m perfectly content with the number of siblings I have now. And I sure don’t need the Fortune name tacked on to Robinson just to make me feel important.”

  With a shake of his head, Ben walked back over to Wes’s desk, but this time he didn’t take a seat. Instead, he stood, his hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers as he gazed down at his brother.

  “We see everything about this Fortune thing differently. Wouldn’t you like to kno
w the truth about our father?”

  Wes answered, “Not if the truth hurts.”

  Ben grimaced. “Did you ever think that restoring the integrity of our father’s heritage might help mend some of the cracks in our family?”

  Wes wanted to ask him how uncovering Gerald’s true parentage could possibly mend years of their father’s deceit, but he didn’t bother. Instead, he said, “I’m not the only one against this quest of yours. Most of our siblings side with me on this thing. The Robinson family doesn’t need the bad publicity that this expedition of yours might bring to our name and Dad’s legacy in the business world.” He leveled a challenging look at his twin. “In the end, Ben, what will we really gain?”

  “The truth. Justice. Vindication. Take your pick. Although I doubt any of those reasons are enough to satisfy you.”

  Knowing he was wasting his time and effort on the Fortune family matter, Wes decided to move their conversation elsewhere. “I was about to go to lunch. Was there some reason you stopped by my office this morning? Other than to discuss Dad’s hidden past?”

  “Actually, I stopped by to ask you about the new app you’re promoting for Valentine’s Day. I hear you’re getting television coverage.”

  “That’s right. Tomorrow, in fact. A colleague and I will be doing a live remote for Hey, USA from here in my office.”

  “A national morning show? Impressive,” Ben said, then grinned slyly. “I’m surprised you managed to garner their attention. You must be doing something right, little brother.”

  Even though physical wrestling matches with his twin had ended in their high school days, there were times Wes still got the playful urge to box his brother’s jaw.

  “Thanks, but in case you haven’t noticed, we do have an excellent marketing department at Robinson Tech,” Wes told him. “And given the fact that dating and love and all that sort of nonsense usually garner lots of attention, it wasn’t hard for them to snare a segment on Hey, USA.”