by Helen Lacey
“Feel like helping out?” she asked and grabbed one of the boxes. “I have to start decorating the house today.”
He frowned. “I thought you were a landscaper?”
Robin grinned. “I’m multitasking. I promised Kate,” she explained. “And it’s not any trouble, since I love Christmas.”
“Me, too.”
Robin stilled, midstride. “Really?”
“Sure,” he replied. “What’s not to love? Gifts, good food, eggnog, Christmas carols.”
She smiled. “You go caroling?”
His mouth curled. “Well, no...but I appreciate it from those who do. Like my sister, Claire. She’s the singer in the family.”
“I can’t hold a note, either. I mean, if that’s what you’re saying. And it’s great to know you’re not good at everything.”
His blue eyes sparkled. “Who says I’m not?” he teased. “I’ll have you know I can—”
“Stop jabbering,” she cut him off as she passed him a box. “And walk this way.”
He followed her obediently to the back of the cypress tree, box in his hands. “Couldn’t you find a bigger tree?”
Robin took the box and placed it at their feet. “Oh, you know what they say. Size matters.”
He laughed. “Is that what they say?”
She shrugged and then smiled. “Apparently. Not that I’ve seen a lot of...” Her words trailed off for a moment. “Ah...trees...you know, for comparison.”
“No?” He smiled devilishly. “Trees in short supply for a landscaper?”
Heat rose up her neck. “I’m very particular about my...trees...that’s all I’m saying.”
“Really?”
Robin shrugged and ignored her hot cheeks. “So...about before,” she said quietly. “And what you said to Evan, you know, about me not being...easy. Thanks.”
“It’s merely the truth.”
“I know,” she said and sighed. “But Evan is my big brother and thinks he gets to tell me how to live my life. You probably do the same with your sister, right?”
“Right.”
She chuckled. “I like how you always say the truth. It’s nice to know there are men out there who don’t lie.”
His gaze narrowed fractionally. “Your ex?”
“Liar of the century,” she replied.
“What did he do?”
“Cheated with two other women,” she replied and managed a laugh so brittle there was no mistaking it was fake. “At the same time.” She laughed again. “And I mean, at the exact same time.”
“So, he’s an ass?”
Robin chuckled at Amersen’s matter-of-fact description and the way his lovely cultured accent said the words. “You could say that. His parents own the ranch next door to my folks, so I’ve known him all my life. We were friends for a long time, and then for a while we were more. He’s a bronc rider and was out on the road competing. I made the mistake of turning up at his hotel unannounced, and he had two women in his room with him.”
Amersen’s handsome face was expressionless. “What did you do?”
“Left,” she replied. “Cursed. Cried. Then realized he wasn’t worth my tears.”
“I’m glad,” he said quietly. “Tears would be wasted on a man too stupid to realize what he had.”
She shrugged. “Trey was young and immature. Actually, I consider our breakup a lucky escape, since I’m sure both sets of parents were getting ready to send out wedding invitations.”
“How old is he?”
“Twenty-five.”
“The same age as me,” Amersen offered lightly. “Not too young to know what is right and wrong.”
“True,” she said. “But you’re a grown-up...and Trey isn’t. Anyhow, enough talk about him. I need to get this tree, and this house, decorated.”
His mouth twisted. “What can I do to help?”
“Pass me the red and green garlands,” she said and pointed to the box at their feet. “While I climb up there,” she added, gesturing to the tall ladder behind the tree. “Oh, and catch me if I fall.”
Robin glanced upward and then started climbing the ladder. She was a few rungs up when she looked down and met Amersen’s gaze. There was intensity and awareness and something else. Something she couldn’t quite define. Until he spoke.
“I’ll catch you,” he said quietly. “I promise.”
* * *
After a couple of hours of negotiation, Amersen agreed to the terms of Kate’s proposal, and once he’d had his own lawyer look over the document, he was certain they would have a deal. The Amersen Noir fragrance would be unveiled the following autumn, coinciding with an aggressive worldwide advertising campaign that would include television, magazine and billboard exposure. It was a good deal, exactly the kind of thing he always looked for. It would be good for his brand and his bank balance. And it would mean he’d have to commute back to Austin over the next few months. It would also mean risking a meeting with any one of his half siblings. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Kate knew more about that situation than she was letting on. True, she hadn’t mentioned anything about Gerald Robinson to him other than a couple of offhand remarks about the man being Graham Fortune Robinson’s father. There was no innuendo, no suggestive comments, nothing that he could pinpoint as the reason for his rising suspicions.
Just his gut telling him to stay alert.
And he would.
Kate’s motives behind this proposition appeared to be genuine...but the bald truth remained that she was a Fortune. And he wasn’t about to lose his edge of anonymity. When he was ready to face his DNA and his blood relatives, he would. Not before. And not yet.
“So,” Kate said once she closed the laptop and sat back on the sofa. “Are you planning on returning to Paris right away?”
Amersen’s thoughts were already out of the room. Earlier Kate had found him standing at the foot of the huge tree, handing garlands to Robin and making a slightly inappropriate remark about the shape of her behind, to which she replied by throwing a wad of tinsel at his face. He wanted to get back to the task. It was fun. And he didn’t do fun often enough. He did business and he entertained celebrities and he wrote his blog and he slept with more women than he liked to think about, but fun...that had been in short supply while he’d been working on his business.
But Robin Harbin made him think about having fun.
“I thought I’d stay a few more days,” he replied. “Perhaps take in a few sights.”
“Alone?”
Amersen met her gaze levelly. “Your point, Ms. Fortune?”
“Kate,” she replied. “And my point is Robin. She’s a nice girl. But a little...let’s say...impetuous at times. I’d hate to see that part of her nature taken advantage of.”
Amersen wasn’t the kind of man to kiss and tell. Or to take advice from strangers who seemed to be coming out of the woodwork. Still, he respected the fact that the people who cared for Robin wanted to ensure she was protected...even if, as in Kate’s case, it was from herself. But he didn’t think Robin was some kind of fragile flower who needed protection, and certainly not from him. She was strong and feisty and could give it back in spades.
“Be assured that I have no intention of taking advantage of anyone.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” Kate said and nodded. “So, no doubt you will let me know when your lawyers have looked over the contract?”
“Of course,” he replied and got to his feet. “You have the email address. Get your lawyer to send it to mine and we’ll see.”
He shook Kate’s hand, thanked her, said he’d be in touch soon and that he would let himself out. He left the room and headed back down the hallway, hoping to find Robin on the ladder again. But he was disappointed. The tree was partially decorated and several boxe
s lay beside it, and he spotted her tool kit on the floor. However, he wasn’t about to start searching the house for her. Amersen tapped one of the boxes with his shoe and let out a long breath.
Get a grip, Beaudin...
“If you’re searching in those boxes for mistletoe, you’re out of luck.”
He stilled, then turned. She was behind him, hands on hips, her crazy, beautiful hair just begging to be freed from its messy ponytail and her blue eyes sparkling.
Amersen grinned. “Pity.”
“Kate insists on the authentic kind,” she said and dropped her hands. “Kind of how she likes the people in her life. So, I hope you’re not intending to make her regret the deal she’s got on the table.”
Amersen let out a self-deriding laugh. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to have everyone think so poorly of me.”
“Everyone?”
“Kate asked me what my intentions were toward you,” he replied.
One of her brows rose steeply. “And what did you say?”
“Oh, I think I mumbled something about not doing anything untoward.”
She laughed. “Glad to hear it. And if you want an answer to your question...”
“My question?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “About everyone thinking poorly of you.”
“Oh...that. Sure, give it a shot.”
Her eyes glittered brilliantly. “You’re young, successful and in the public eye. You don’t seem to care what mainstream people think. And your reputation with women casts a long shadow...right across an ocean.”
“This bad reputation,” he mused. “Did it occur to you that it’s a fabrication?”
“No smoke, no fire,” she said and smiled. “Like, how many women have you dated in the past six months?”
Amersen quickly did the calculation in his head and shrugged vaguely. “I’m not sure...a few.”
“A few?”
“Okay...five.”
“So, that’s like one point two women every month,” she said and counted on her fingers. “And of these women, how many did you sleep with?”
Heat crawled up his neck, and suddenly he felt like he was flunking morality school. “I don’t... Well...a few.”
“A few?” she echoed.
“Okay,” he said and expelled a heavy breath. “Five. I dated five women and had sex with five women. Happy?”
“Am I happy knowing you bed every woman you date?” She shrugged and turned back to the ladder. “Not particularly. Am I grateful that you didn’t lie about it? Sure.”
“It’s just sex, Robin,” he said and tugged at his collar. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Precisely.”
Amersen met her gaze, and the heat rising up his neck returned. For the first time in his life, he was being called out about his behavior toward the women he dated...and he discovered he didn’t like it. Something burned in his gut, a kind of uneasy resentment that didn’t make sense. Other than his parents, he generally didn’t care what people thought of him. Writing The Real Paris had made him a target for regular online attacks of both his character and his personal life, but he always tuned out the gossip and innuendo. However, Robin’s remark cut deep. Her opinion mattered. And he was annoyed that it did. They barely knew each other, and he shouldn’t care one way or another. But the idea that she thought badly of him struck a chord.
“I guess I’ve never allowed myself to think of it as anything more,” he said quietly.
“I’m not judging you,” she said and shrugged.
“No?” he queried.
“You can do whatever makes you happy.”
Amersen stilled and for a crazy moment wondered if she could somehow read his thoughts. There was a kind of bewitching quality to her, a mix of beguiling innocence and vivacity. Something about her drew him like a magnet to pressed steel. Something he didn’t understand or want. In a matter of days, he’d be gone. Getting involved any deeper was foolish. And he’d never considered himself a fool...until now.
“I was just thinking that,” he admitted softly. “I was thinking that I didn’t give much thought to being happy these days.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why not?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Too busy. Too many meetings. Too much ambition. All of the above. But...” He paused, looking around, gesturing a hand in a vague arc. “Hanging out here, with you...that makes me happy.”
As soon as he said the words, he felt like snatching them back. Her eyes were suddenly huge in her face, her cheeks blotched with color, and she took a step backward. “I...uh...I need to get back to work.”
Amersen gave himself a mental shake. “Sure. Take care, Robin.”
She turned around and spoke as she climbed the ladder. “Yeah...you, too.”
“The tree looks good, by the way,” he said.
“Thanks,” she said and climbed higher, her voice raspy. “So long.”
Amersen lingered for a moment, then realized she wasn’t going to say anything else. He opened his mouth to speak and quickly changed his mind. He was cursing himself for being foolish as he left the house, and still giving himself a lecture about being attracted to a woman who clearly wasn’t interested in anything other than a mild flirtation as he headed into town.
When he reached his hotel in the city, it was after three o’clock. He pulled up outside the hotel and handed the car keys to the bellhop. Amersen was striding across the foyer when the concierge approached him and handed him a message, handwritten in a scrawl he didn’t recognize. As he read the words, his entire body stilled.
Heard you were in town. Would like to catch up. Keaton Fortune Whitfield.
Damn.
There was a cell number at the bottom of the note. Figuring it wasn’t too early for a drink, Amersen headed for the bar. He ordered a belt of scotch and sat alone in the corner. The place was deserted, and it gave him time to think.
So, his half sibling had somehow been tipped off to his arrival in Austin.
Amersen wasn’t sure how. He’d kept his movements under wraps—hadn’t posted any activity on any of his social media accounts. No one except his family, his lawyer and two of his closest friends in Paris knew of his whereabouts. And he trusted them implicitly. Other than having his assistant back in Paris use his real name to rent a car and book the hotel, he’d flown under the radar. Even his visit to the Fortune Cosmetics Headquarters had taken place in the evening and with some secrecy. Only Kate and a pair of security guards had been with him.
Then he remembered that Robin’s brother had been sniffing around for information about him on the internet...maybe there was some connection? From what her parents had said when he’d been there for dinner, it was clear the Harbins knew Keaton and several of the other Robinsons. His head hurt thinking about it, and he’d just decided to order another drink to drown his woes when his cell pinged, indicating he had a text message. He’d bloody well be heading back to Paris on the first flight he could get if Keaton Fortune Whitfield had somehow managed to access his cell number.
But it wasn’t his half sibling.
It was Robin.
Dinner. Friday night. Seven o’clock. My place. Parent-free zone.
He smiled. Paris could wait.
Chapter Six
Without anyone telling her so—notably because she hadn’t breathed a word to anyone—Robin knew by late Friday afternoon that she was asking for all kinds of trouble by inviting Amersen to dinner.
And yet...she couldn’t help herself.
Hanging out here, with you...that makes me happy.
His softly spoken words banged around in her head and she mentally sighed every time she thought of them. Damn, the man so knew how to get under her skin. Maybe it was deliberate? Perhaps that was how a smooth, charmin
g player got women into his bed? Good sense would say so. So would online gossip. And yet he didn’t seem that manipulative. He seemed genuine. In that moment, he’d seemed so achingly vulnerable—and it had done something almost indescribable to her raw defenses. She couldn’t pinpoint the feeling, and her logic didn’t want to. But within an hour of him leaving the ranch, she’d made a decision.
To hell with good sense.
She liked him. She enjoyed being with him. So what harm could a night in, some dinner and conversation really do? It didn’t mean she was about to jump into bed with him. It didn’t mean that she would lose her heart to the man. It was just dinner.
No big deal.
“Something special going on tonight?”
Robin looked up from her place behind the counter in her small kitchen. Her mother stood at the back door, apron tied around her waist, arms folded.
She shrugged lightly. “Just making spaghetti sauce.”
“You’re not joining us tonight?”
Since she’d broken up with Trey, Robin had eaten dinner with her parents most Friday nights, since most of her friends wanted to head into Austin to enjoy the nightclub scene and drink and party until dawn. Not that she was averse to dancing and a beer or two after a week of hard work, but she really was more stay at home than party hard, so Friday dinners with her parents usually suited her fine.
“Uh, no,” she said and stirred the sauce simmering on the burner. “I’ve got company tonight.”
“The Frenchman?”
Robin smiled to herself, thinking how quickly Amersen had fallen from grace in her mother’s eyes, thanks to her interfering brother. “Yes, Amersen.”
“Be careful, okay?”
She met her mother’s concerned gaze. “I will, I promise. And he’s still the same person you thought was a good sort of man a few days ago. I’m not in danger here, Mom, so you can stop worrying.”
Her mother let out a brittle laugh. “I’ll always worry. When you have children of your own, you’ll know why.”
