“What time are you done with class this morning?”
“Nine thirty.”
Ciara looked up at the clock that hung above the kitchen sink. “Perfect. The mall opens at ten. The first thing you’re going to do is buy some lingerie. Lots of lingerie.”
“I don’t need lots,” Francesca protested.
“You do. Next, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.” She pointed a finger at Ciara. “Not literally but we’re not ruling that out as an option.”
Francesca grabbed the mug from the counter. “I definitely need more coffee to decipher what you’re trying to tell me.”
“I’m talking about a booty call.”
Francesca paused with the mug halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”
“You’re worried about getting nervous on a date with Keaton, right?”
“Right.”
“You need to take the thing that’s making you nervous off the table.” She giggled. “So to speak.”
“Enough with the innuendos,” Francesca said.
“Invite him over for sex.”
Ciara said the words calmly, like she was suggesting Francesca and Keaton take high tea together.
“I can’t...do...that.” Francesca’s heart raced even thinking about it.
“Yes, you can.” Ciara rubbed her palms together like she was some sort of diabolical seduction mastermind. “It’s the perfect solution.”
“What if he says no?”
Ciara flipped her long hair over one shoulder. “He’s not going to say no. Stop thinking every man is like Lou the Louse. You’ve spent too long selling yourself short, Frannie. When you left Lou it was to make a new life for yourself.”
“And I have,” Francesca said, but she knew it wasn’t quite true. She’d come back to the same job she’d had since she was sixteen, and while college was a big step for her, she used the restaurant and her studies as an excuse to put her personal life on the back burner. Yes, she was busy. But as the past two weeks with Keaton had proved, she could make time for the right man.
The right man.
That was the key. Although she was reluctant to label it, whatever was between her and Keaton felt right. It was time to take a step toward claiming the life she wanted.
If she needed cute undies to make it happen, then so be it.
“I’ll meet you at the mall at ten,” she told Ciara before wrapping her friend in a tight hug.
Ciara gave a little squeal of delight. “Operation British Seduction is a go?”
Francesca grinned. “It’s a go.”
* * *
“What did that cow do to make you so mad?”
Keaton stared across the table at Ben Robinson. “What are you talking about?”
Ben’s thick brow lifted. “You’re cutting into that piece of meat like you have a personal vendetta against it.”
Keaton glanced down at the steak he’d ordered and realized he was, indeed, sawing at it with the knife like he was Jack the Ripper. He carefully placed his utensils on the edge of the plate. “It’s nothing. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
That statement was both true and false. He had only one thing in his mind—a deliciously curvy waitress with blond hair tumbling down her back. Thoughts of Francesca consumed him until there seemed to be no room left in his brain for anything else.
“We’ll track down the other Fortunes,” Ben told him, misinterpreting what was agitating Keaton. The assumption was better than his half brother guessing the true reason. One thing Keaton had learned in his short time having brothers and sisters—siblings were a nosy lot.
After his visit with Graham, Keaton had fielded a phone call from Olivia and a stream of texts from the youngest Robinson, Sophie. Both women had been far too curious about the state of his personal life and the hints Graham had dropped about Keaton’s love life. He’d managed to answer their questions in a way that seemed to satisfy them without giving away anything about his relationship with Francesca. He’d learned a few lessons being raised by his mother and her posse of prying friends.
“I have a better lead on the French Fortune,” Keaton said. “The time difference makes it a bit of a challenge to speak in real time, but my friend who lives in Paris reports that Amersen Beaudin might be the man we want.”
“This is Suzette’s son?” Ben asked, his voice tight.
“Yes. I want to be completely certain before we approach him, especially given your family’s history with his mother.” It was a sticking point with all the Robinson children that their father left so many broken hearts, as well as fatherless children, in his wake. He thought the fact that their former au pair was the mother of one of them might be particularly difficult to accept.
Ben nodded then said, “I’ve located Chloe Elliott living right here in Austin. She works as a counselor. It sounds crazy, but she grew up just down the road from us. I don’t think I ever knew her, but it certainly hits close to home.”
“Text me her information,” Keaton told Ben. “I can get in touch with her.”
“What about Nash Tremont? Any leads on the Oklahoma Fortune?” Ben took a bite of his club sandwich. They’d met for lunch downtown, and Keaton had once again been tempted to invite Ben to Lola May’s. But something stopped him. Last night with Francesca had been amazing, but he wanted to make sure she felt the same way he did before he introduced her to his family.
He was certain his Fortune siblings would approve of her, which might be the reason behind his hesitation. His feelings for Francesca were a jumble, and he wasn’t sure he could handle the pressure of having his brothers and sisters push him to take things to the next level.
“Tremont is dodging my calls and ignoring my texts.” Keaton shrugged. “I don’t want to push too hard or we could lose him. It’s hard to know how each person will take the news or if they’re even interested in knowing they have a new family.”
“Most people are interested in becoming a Fortune. Speaking of which, did you meet with that reporter?”
“Ariana Lamonte.” Keaton nodded. “She emailed me some initial questions and the actual interview is scheduled for tomorrow morning. The piece will run on Weird Life’s blog first, then an expanded interview will go in the print magazine.”
“You’ve kept a low profile for a Fortune,” Ben observed. “After this there’ll be no more anonymity for you.”
“I get that,” Keaton answered. “But if one of Gerald’s other illegitimate children reads the article and is helped by it, then the additional publicity will be worth it.” He pointed his fork toward Ben. “Ariana definitely sees ‘Becoming a Fortune’ as a series. She may want to spotlight one or two of the Robinsons, as well.”
Ben shook his head. “Not me right now. If she wants to talk to someone else, send her to Sophie or Olivia first. When this baby comes, I’m going to have my hands more than full.”
“Will do. I’ll let them decide who wants to be the next...”
“Victim?” Ben supplied with a wry grin.
“Newsmaker,” Keaton countered.
Just then Keaton’s phone began to buzz in his back pocket. He pulled it out to see Francesca’s number flashing across the screen. Holding up a finger to let Ben know he’d only be a minute, he slid his thumb across the screen to answer.
“Hello, luv,” he murmured, keeping his voice low enough that Ben wouldn’t hear.
“Is this Keaton?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
His shoulders stiffened. “Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s Ciara James, Francesca’s roommate. We’ve met at the restaurant and—”
“Where’s Francesca? Is she okay?” He knew he’d raised his voice when Ben lifted a brow, but at this point Keaton didn’t care. An uncomfortable rush of panic shot through him at the thought that Fr
ancesca might be in trouble and unable to use the phone herself.
“She’s fine,” Ciara answered quickly. “But she needs you to come to our apartment. No emergency. No rush.” There was a rustling on the other end of the line. “Maybe a little rush wouldn’t hurt. Just get here when you can, okay?”
“Can I talk to her?”
It sounded like Ciara put her hand over the mouthpiece. There were muffled voices then she returned to the line. “I don’t think so. She’ll be here when you arrive.”
“Why can’t she—”
He stopped speaking when the line went dead.
“Damn.” He stared at the screen, as if willing the phone to ring again. “I’ve got to go.”
“Does this have anything to do with your waitress?”
“I wouldn’t say she’s mine,” Keaton said, but his heart squeezed at the denial. He might not want to admit it, but she certainly felt like she belonged to him.
“You don’t have to,” Ben told him. “Graham filled us in.”
“Siblings are a pain in the arse,” Keaton muttered.
Ben threw back his head and laughed. “You’ve been a Fortune a full year now. Has it really taken you this long to realize that? I thought you Brits were quicker on the uptake.” Ben made shooing motions with his hands, much like Keaton’s mother had done when he was boy bothering her in the kitchen as she worked to put supper on the table. “You’d better go. I’ve seen the signs. You’ve got it bad.”
“No, it was just a strange phone call,” Keaton argued. “Francesca and I are just having fun. It isn’t serious.” But his body was seriously screaming for him to bolt out of the restaurant and rush to her side as quickly as he could.
“You sound like me this time last year. We’ll see what happens next. I’m guessing there will be wedding bells in your future before you know it. But right now go. Hell, you’re making me nervous with the time you’re wasting.”
Keaton stood from the table. “You’re wrong about the wedding bells, but thanks for understanding about cutting short our lunch.”
“Text later and let me know how things worked out.”
With a nod, Keaton turned, striding out of the restaurant and into the bright noonday Texas sun. He’d parked around the block and jogged to his car. It was a quick ten minute drive through town to the SoCo neighborhood and Lola May’s. Ciara was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the apartment she and Francesca shared.
“She’s up there,” the leggy brunette told him. “I’ll be gone for a while.” She leaned in closer. “A long while.”
He didn’t press her for an explanation. Instead, Keaton took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding like he’d just swum the English Channel. The door to the apartment was slightly ajar and he pushed through, searching for Francesca in the strangely dim light.
“Thanks for coming over so quickly.”
She stood in the middle of the room, between the kitchen and the sofa, her fingers drumming on the back of a chair.
“Is everything okay?” He took a step toward her, his eyes scanning up and down to try to discern if she was hurt in some way. She looked fine. She looked...
Keaton stopped dead in his tracks when he realized Francesca wore only a thin, silk robe in a deep ruby color that made her skin glow as if illuminated from within. Then he noticed the votive candles that flickered from the top of every surface in the room.
“Everything is fine,” she murmured. “Better than fine, I hope.”
A shy smile curving her lips, she slowly undid the robe’s sash.
Keaton’s mouth went dry at the glimpse of red that peeked out from the gap in the fabric. A moment later, Francesca slipped the robe from her shoulders. It pooled in a puddle at her feet, leaving her in nothing but the sexiest damn bra and panty set he could have imagined in his wildest dreams.
A shiver raced through Keaton at the same time that all his brain cells hurtled south, leaving his mind completely blank.
* * *
Francesca licked her dry lips and waited for Keaton to say something. Anything.
He continued to stare at her without speaking for several long moments. She was suddenly terrified that she’d gotten it wrong. What if he wasn’t interested in being seduced by her?
Heart stammering, she bent and grabbed for the robe.
“Don’t.”
The word hung in the air, almost echoing in the charged quiet of the apartment. She straightened but couldn’t help covering her midsection and chest with her hands.
Keaton still stood only a foot or so inside her door, his arms stiffly at his sides.
“Let me see you.” His voice was a low rumble. “Please.”
She dropped her arms. “No emergency,” she said with a shaky laugh. She’d made the decision to close the blinds and light candles after her trip to the mall with Ciara. It was one thing to greet a man wearing little more than her birthday suit. It was another to do it in broad daylight.
Keaton didn’t smile, and she couldn’t read his expression.
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” she said automatically. “I just wanted...” How could she explain all the things she wanted from Keaton when she barely understood them herself? In the end, she settled for murmuring, “You.”
He closed the distance between them in three long strides but didn’t reach for her. “You took about a decade off my life with that phone call.”
“I’m so—”
He put a finger to her lips. “But it was worth every year for this moment. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I bought cute panties,” she whispered.
His eyes never left her face. “The lingerie is fantastic, but it’s you that makes it so amazing. Are you sure this is what you want? There are no expectations, no special time frame. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. You’re worth it, Francesca.”
“I want this. I want you, Keaton. No more waiting.”
As if he’d been longing to hear those words, he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him. His other hand fisted in her hair, tugging back her head so that her throat was exposed. He bent his head and trailed hot kisses along her neck.
Heat radiated from him, and the fabric of his crisp white shirt scraped against her lace bra, making her breasts grow heavy with need.
As if he read her mind, his hand left her hair to cup one breast, his thumb grazing over her nipple. She moaned in response and he deepened the kiss even further. When her knees gave way, he scooped her into his arms. “Bedroom?” he whispered against her lips.
She pointed to the door past the kitchen, unable to speak beyond a heated sigh.
He carried her in and kicked the door shut with his heel. A moment later she felt her cool sheets against her back and gave herself a mental gold star for having the foresight to pull back the quilt earlier. She pushed at his chest when he came down over top of her.
“You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“Indeed I am,” he agreed.
When he stood, she reached for the quilt to pull over her but Keaton shook his head. “Leave it,” he commanded, his voice a hoarse rasp. He started on the buttons of his shirt, his finger trembling slightly as he worked at them.
An unfamiliar feeling of power washed through Francesca. This man was as affected by her as she was by him. She drew up her knee and sat forward slightly, knowing it would push up her breasts, and was rewarded by a low growl from Keaton.
Maybe she was better at seduction than she’d thought.
Then he reached the last button and slid the shirt off his shoulders. He had the most delicious chest she’d ever seen, with lean muscles and just the right amount of dark hair swirling around his nipples. Francesca’s mouth went dry and all she could
think was yes.
She was so intent on memorizing the hard planes of his upper body that she didn’t even realize he’d stripped totally until she heard the rip of the condom packet. Once he’d sheathed himself, he climbed onto the bed again.
“This is the best way I can think of to spend an afternoon,” Keaton whispered.
She automatically opened her thighs for him, and cupping her face between his palms, his gaze intent on hers, he moved into her in one long stroke.
Francesca gasped, both from the pleasure of it and the intimacy of the moment. She’d never imagined it could be like this. Keaton stilled, and she could feel the willpower it took for him not to move.
“Does it—”
Before he could finish the question, she wrapped a hand around his neck and fused his mouth to hers. At the same time she rocked her hips to take him deeper. He let out a soft groan and they began to move together. It was too much and not enough. All she wanted was to stay in his arms forever.
There was no place she ended and he began. They were simply one. Francesca lost herself in a torrent of movement, sensation and whispered words. How could she have ever doubted how perfect it would feel to be with Keaton? From the first, everything about him was different. With each thoughtful gesture and sweet flirtation, he’d crept past her defenses. Now there was no part of her that didn’t belong to him—her body, her heart. Everything that had come before now seemed like a placeholder for this moment.
The thought drove her even further into the sparkling swell of desire and she held him tighter. Minutes later her whole world burst and she arched up, unable to hold back her response. It felt like she was exploding from the inside out, a shower of light radiating through her body and making every inch of her flame into oblivion.
Keaton was there to catch each of her cries, moving until at last she felt him shudder around her. Slowly she came back to herself as Keaton flipped to his back and tucked her into him, fanning her curls across his chest.
“I have no words,” he whispered, “for how unbelievable that was.”
A Fortune in Waiting Page 13
