OOH-LA-LA! A FRENCH FORTUNE!

The Yuletide season brings something très magnifique to Austin, Texas, in the form of sexy French entrepreneur Amersen Beaudin. The sexy but standoffish playboy has zero interest in meeting his newly discovered Fortune relatives, least of all the man who is his biological father. But when matriarch Kate Fortune dangles an all-too-attractive business proposition, he is too intrigued to stay away. And once he meets Kate’s beautiful gardener, Robin Harbin, he starts to rethink his holiday plans...

A spicy affair with the blonde, blue-eyed Texan is now at the top of Amersen’s wish list. But all Robin wants for Christmas is the flirty Parisian’s heart and soul. Can she convince him that love—and family—can lead to a joyeux Noël?

MEET THE FORTUNES

Fortune of the Month: Amersen Beaudin (Shh! Nobody knows he’s a Fortune!)

Age: 25

Vital statistics: The sexy Frenchman has blue eyes, tousled brown hair and that certain je ne sais quoi.

Claim to fame: He is a renowned winemaker, a brash blogger and the toast of Paris.

Romantic prospects: His reputation with the ladies is legendary. Just don’t ask him for a commitment.

“Nothing has gone according to plan since I arrived in Austin. When Kate Fortune asked me here to consult on a business venture, I figured I would be in and out in twenty-four hours. But I hadn’t counted on Robin, Kate’s landscape gardener. From the moment I saw her, I was... enchanté.

“Robin would never believe that Paris’s enfant terrible is actually one of Jerome Fortune’s bastard children. And as far as I am concerned, she does not need to know. Up next: a brief but dazzling affaire de coeur. By the time Christmas comes, I will be far across the sea. But can I romance fair Robin and then leave her behind?”

* * *

The Fortunes of Texas:

A Fortunes of Texas Christmas

Helen Lacey

www.millsandboon.co.uk

HELEN LACEY grew up reading Black Beauty and Little House on the Prairie. These childhood classics inspired her to write her first book when she was seven, a story about a girl and her horse. She loves writing for Mills & Boon Cherish, where she can create strong heroes with soft hearts and heroines with gumption who get their happily-ever-after. For more about Helen, visit her website, www.helenlacey.com.

For Dawn and Ray.

Good neighbors, great friends.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Amersen Beaudin hated flying.

Despite the fact that he’d racked up more frequent-flyer miles in the past five years than most people did in a lifetime, not even the luxurious private jet he was currently seated in was enough to change his opinion. Still, he thought as he stretched out his legs and sipped on a twenty-five-year-old scotch, this was definitely better than traveling coach. Not that he’d done that for several years. He closed his eyes and thought about what he was about to walk into once he landed in Austin.

Fortunes.

More than he’d ever wanted to meet. Or know.

But ninetysomething matriarch and business icon Kate Fortune had requested his presence, and she wasn’t an easy woman to refuse. And plus, he was curious. Despite everything. Despite knowing he was opening the book on the past. And despite recently finding out he had Fortune blood coursing through his veins. But since he had no intention of ever accepting the notion that he was a Fortune, Amersen figured he’d meet with Kate, listen to what she had to say and then decide if he wanted any more involvement with Texas, with Austin or with anyone named Fortune.

Kate’s call a couple of weeks earlier had come from left field. A business proposition, she’d said. Something that was worth discussing in person and not over the telephone. And no mention of anything personal. No mention of the fact that he was Jerome Fortune’s—aka Gerald Robinson’s—son. Illegitimate son. But not really his son, since Amersen did not consider Gerald Robinson to be his father. He had a father, and a damned good one, back in Paris. Nothing would change that. Not the notion that he was actually one of several children sired and abandoned by computer giant Gerald Robinson—a man who’d faked his own death years earlier and had been outed as the philandering Jerome Fortune less than two years ago. Blood didn’t make someone a parent. Love and commitment did. And Amersen had that back in Paris. With his mother, Suzette, his stepfather, Luc Beaudin, and his younger sister, Claire, he had all the family he needed.

This trip was merely out of curiosity and respect. Kate Fortune was a highly successful woman, and even though she was no longer the CEO, she was still considered the powerhouse behind Fortune Cosmetics and many other business ventures. And since Kate hadn’t mentioned anything about him being Gerald’s son, Amersen suspected her request for a meeting was about something else altogether.

At least, that was what he hoped. It had been hard enough ignoring emails and shutting down telephone calls from two of his half brothers over the past few months. Keaton Fortune Whitfield and Ben Fortune Robinson had made it clear they wanted to meet him, but Amersen had held back. Finding out he was Gerald Robinson/Jerome Fortune’s unwanted son was one thing. Embracing the knowledge he had enough siblings to form a soccer team was something else. Gerald had eight children from his long marriage to Charlotte Prendergast Robinson, plus several out of wedlock with other women, including his mother, who had been the au pair to the Fortune children twenty-six years ago. Which made Gerald a womanizing, cheating, no-good bastard.

And definitely not someone Amersen wanted in his life.

That decided, he’d meet with Kate Fortune, listen to her proposition and then head straight back to Paris, where he belonged. With any luck, Keaton Fortune Whitfield and Ben Fortune Robinson wouldn’t even know he’d touched down on their turf. Maybe he’d meet them one day. But not now. He didn’t want anything derailing his life.

The last few years had been good ones, during which he’d worked tirelessly to achieve all that he had. The blog he’d started in college, called The Real Paris, had earned him something of a celebrity status, along with some notoriety and labels such as opinionated, ruthless and arrogant. But he could live with the labels. He was grateful for the trajectory it had taken him on and the opportunities it offered in its wake. Like Noir, the nightclub he’d built from the ground up in an abandoned warehouse in the heart of the city over five years earlier, when he was twenty. The place had taken on a life force of its own and was now frequented by the Parisian elite and countless international celebrities. Noir was upscale, high-end and definitely the place to see and be seen in Paris. It became a money machine, and he’d quickly invested the first million he’d made in a winery and was now exporting product around the globe.

Yes, life was good for Amersen Beaudin. And he wasn’t about to do anything to change that.

And that included getting too involved with the Fortune family.

By the time the jet landed at Austin-Bergstrom International Airport and he was through customs, it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. There was a limo and driver waiting for him, compliments of Kate Fortune, and then he was on the freeway and heading to her ranch. The driver took a left off the main road, headed toward a set of gates that had a sign saying Sterling’s Fortune, then turned down a long driveway. As Amersen looked out toward the pastures dotted with horses and cattle, he couldn’t help but be impressed. As far as homes went, this one looked as though it belonged on the front page of a lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous magazine. And probably had, he figured, considering who Kate Fortune was.

The limo pulled up outside the large house, and he got out before the driver had a chance to come around to the back of the vehicle. He was used to limos and flagrant displays of wealth but still liked to do things his own way. Sure, he was rich. And in his own country he had established a reputation and racked up a considerable bank balance and real estate portfolio. But he drove his own car and tied his own shoes.

He shrugged off all thoughts of Paris for the moment and told the driver to wait for him so he could take the car back to his hotel downtown when his meeting with Kate Fortune was over. The driver agreed, and Amersen quickly headed up the pathway toward the front door.

And then he saw her.

A vision.

A dream.

A woman so enchanting he actually blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. She was walking across the garden, wearing a long white dress that seemed to float over her curves, with long sleeves that exposed her shoulders, the kind of dress that made him foolishly think of hand holding, or lounging on the grass at a picnic. He couldn’t see her face as she wore a wide-brimmed, floppy white hat. But he saw her hair. It cascaded down her back in a beautiful honey-blond wave. His palms suddenly itched with the longing to feel her hair between his fingers, to wrap a fistful of her lustrous waves around his hand and draw her close. He tried to shake the idea off and failed. He tried to drag his gaze away and failed there, too.

Être toujours mon cœur...

There was something about the way she walked that rooted him to the spot, something about the tilt of her head and the sway of her hips that was impossible to ignore, and the image was suddenly imprinted in his brain like a stamp. It was illogical and foolish. He didn’t get shuttled into la-la land by a pair of great hips and blond hair. Not ever. He had beautiful women in his life and in his bed whenever he wanted them. But he kept it casual. Amersen didn’t have time to get bogged down in a serious relationship. He was twenty-five years old, way too young to think of commitment to any one woman.

What he didn’t want, what he would never allow of himself, was to be derailed by the image of a beautiful woman in a white dress, no matter how enchanting she was. Still, he couldn’t help the way his body took notice of her as she made her way across the garden and toward the small rotunda. She looked as though she belonged in a painting in the Musée d’Orsay. Or by his side, drinking champagne on a balcony overlooking the Seine.

He cursed himself for being so stupidly sentimental. But he couldn’t help how his palms itched. Or how his blood heated and seemed to unexpectedly surge to one part of his anatomy. He could usually control attraction. But this...this was like a lightning strike, as though every breath he inhaled was somehow being sucked out through his skin, and suddenly he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. A familiar dread crept into his limbs as his throat tightened. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck when he realized what was coming.

Damn. The last thing he wanted to do was have an asthma attack on Kate Fortune’s lawn. Amersen cursed his weak lungs for the trillionth time and straightened his back, rounding out his shoulders, slowing down his breathing as much as he could. He hadn’t had a full-blown attack for months and couldn’t believe he was suddenly at risk because he’d spotted a goddess in white walking across the garden. His attention wasn’t usually so easily distracted. He needed to get himself under control...and fast.

Amersen took a breath, and then another, forcing air into his body, trying to relax his constricting lungs the old-fashioned way, reluctant to use the inhaler in his pocket. He took another breath, and then another, until finally he felt his lungs relax and the air began to flow through his nose and down his throat, and he began to feel normal again. He glanced toward the house and then diverted his gaze back to the woman still walking across the garden.

He willed his legs to turn, to move, to make for the house so he could get himself back under control. But he stayed where he was, watching as she walked around the rotunda, her face hidden, her hips swaying. And then, almost as though she had been an apparition, she was gone.

Before he could stop himself, Amersen was hiking toward the rotunda and darting up the steps two at a time, looking for her, suddenly desperate to talk to her. But, nothing. There was a small set of stairs opposite the ones he’d climbed, and he stood on the top step and looked around. Still nothing. Amersen rubbed his eyes wearily. Maybe jet lag had settled in and he’d imagined her. Maybe he was losing his mind.

“Can I help you?”

He stilled, rooted to the spot for a moment before he slowly turned on his heels. She was behind him, and he stared at her, wishing he could see all of her face beneath the brim of that hat. He got a glimpse of her chin and her luscious pink mouth and the slant of her cheeks, but it was her eyes he was suddenly desperate for. He wanted the visual connection, that first look that was a prelude to everything else. And her soft Texas drawl was unexpectedly a complete turn-on.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his pulse quickening. “Can you?”

* * *

Robin Harbin stared at the man in front of her, her belly dipping wildly, like she was on a theme park roller coaster going way too fast. But, boy, the man was gorgeous. Maybe the most perfectly handsome male specimen she’d ever seen. Black hair, riveting blue eyes, a strong jaw just touched with a shadow of whiskers...and a body that quickly sent her libido—and her traitorous ovaries—into serious overdrive.

Of course she knew who he was.

Amersen Beaudin.

Her employer, Kate Fortune, had mentioned him several times over the past week. A Frenchman. Someone Kate wanted to work with. And Robin’s interest had been piqued enough that she had done an internet search to find out what all the fuss was about. A couple of clicks of the mouse and she had all the intel she needed. Rich, successful and a well-documented heartless playboy. Known simply as Amersen to his trillions of followers on social media. Okay, so maybe trillions was an exaggeration...but he certainly had a lot of people wanting to hear his opinion on pretty much everything. Robin had read a few of his blog posts and had quickly formed the view that he was an overopinionated, egotistical know-it-all who, based on what she’d seen in a few videos he’d posted, clearly loved to hear the sound of his own voice. And of course, he was totally and categorically out of her league. Not that she had any thoughts about the man in that way. She didn’t know him.

But he was gorgeous.

And obviously knew it, from the way he was looking at her. As though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Irritation suddenly chugged through her veins and she dropped her chin a fraction, realizing he probably had women falling at his feet across the globe and that was why he was regarding her as though she should be looking at him like he was some kind of great prize. Which, she supposed, he was, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him think she believed that.

“Nice...dress,” he said, his lovely accent winding up her spine like liquid silk.

Robin glanced down at the white frock she’d donned half an hour earlier at Kate’s request. The gown and hat were a trial look for a new brand campaign, which found Robin being photographed in the rotunda when the usual model had called in sick earlier that afternoon. Not that she considered herself model material. She was a touch too full in the bust and too curvy in the hips for that. But Kate wanted some shots to send the marketing department at Fortune Cosmetics, and Robin was the only option at the time. The truth be told, she felt a little ridiculous in the ultrafeminine dress—jeans and cowboy boots were more her style. But Kate was her employer and friend, and she had no intention of disappointing the older woman.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, eager to get away from his burning gaze. Sheesh, the guy had the intensity thing down pat. “You’re here to see Kate,” she said, more statement than question.

He nodded. “Yes. Are you a relative?”

His English was perfect, and his accent was so incredibly sexy that her knees acted treacherously and threatened to buckle beneath his warm, penetrating gaze. She wanted to run, to flee from his stare and never look back. Men like Amersen Beaudin spelled trouble...and Robin had made a decision to categorically avoid trouble after breaking up with her no-good, two-timing boyfriend eight months earlier. The next man she fell for wasn’t going to look like he belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. He was going to be the complete opposite of Louse of the Century Trey Hammond. And the complete opposite of Amersen Beaudin, for that matter.

“No,” Robin replied, ignoring the heat smacking her cheeks. “Kate’s inside,” she said, figuring he’d get the hint that she wasn’t interested in a conversation.

“But you’re out here,” he said smoothly, each word a blatant flirtation.

Robin stepped back. “She’s expecting you.”

“I know.”

“She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

His mouth twisted in an amused grin. “She sounds formidable. Should I ask you to accompany me? For protection?”

Robin didn’t dare meet his gaze. She didn’t want to look directly into his brilliant blue eyes. “You look resilient enough to handle yourself, Mr. Beaudin.”

He chuckled. “You know who I am?”

“I know enough,” she said and stepped back. “Kate’s waiting for you in the front living room. Best get a move on.”

“You’re very...” His voice trailed off, as though he was searching for the right word. “Bossy.”

Robin almost laughed out loud. Her two older brothers always called her that. “Thank you,” she said tightly. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve received all day.”

“In that dress,” he said quietly, “I doubt it. However, if nice is what does it for you, I’m sure I can accommodate you, Miss...”

Robin shivered. It was a blatant flirtation. Everything about the damnable man was seductive. She ignored his angling for her name. “Oh, I see,” she said and raised her chin, connecting with his gaze full on. “You’re one of those men who can’t help but come on to every woman you meet.”

She heard him suck in a sharp breath, saw his brilliant blue eyes darken. “Every woman?” he echoed and tilted his head slightly. “No.”

Robin put a hand to her chest in mock appreciation. “Then I’m flattered...but not interested.”

“Really?”

He sounded shocked, and it made Robin laugh. “Really,” she replied. “And right now you should be thinking about your meeting with Kate and not anything...else.”

He stared at her. “Is this what’s called Texas hospitality?”

“No,” she said and took another step. “Simply good advice, Mr. Beaudin. Good luck with your interview.”

Then she turned on her heels, headed down the steps and raced around toward the guesthouse—far away from Amersen Beaudin and his absurdly sexy blue eyes. Hoping that with a little luck, she’d never have to see him again.

Must. Not. Think. He’s. Sexy.

Not ever.

But she did. Which spelled nothing but trouble.

* * *

Interview?

Amersen was still mulling that idea a couple of minutes later as a plump sixtysomething housekeeper invited him inside the big house. He ignored the idea that he’d been thoroughly and emphatically rejected by the nameless garden goddess and crossed the threshold, following the woman down the hall. It was a grand home, with a wide stairway, polished floors and stylish furnishings. The front living room was equally impressive, and it occurred to him that many people would be intimidated by the wealth and opulence. But he wasn’t. Maybe he’d become overused to wealth in the past few years.

And Kate Fortune was as incredible as he’d expected—she was tall and still striking despite her years, and she regarded him with a kind of high-browed curiosity as he walked through the door and introduced himself. She was standing by the fireplace, looking elegant in a shell pink suit with an ivory silk blouse and a thin row of pearls around her neck. Her hair was neat, her makeup impeccable and her demeanor one of style personified. Yes, Kate Fortune was every bit as imposing as he’d been led to believe. But he wasn’t daunted. Far from it. Amersen was keen to talk to her and hear her out.

“It was very good of you to come all this way to meet me,” she said, stretching out one long, elegant hand toward him. “I trust you had a comfortable flight?”

Amersen nodded and shook her hand. “Yes, thank you. Supplying the jet for my trip was very thoughtful of you.”

She shrugged lightly and then waved a hand. “Would you prefer to converse in French?”

His curiosity deepened. “You speak French, Ms. Fortune?”

“Some,” she replied. “And please, call me Kate.”

He nodded. “I’m happy to speak in English.”

She smiled a little and motioned for him to take a seat on one of the sofas. “Yes, well, you speak it very well. You studied business at Cambridge for several years, correct?”

Amersen’s brows rose fractionally as he sat down opposite her. “You’ve done some homework.”

“Of course,” she said and shrugged lightly. “I like to know who I’m going into business with.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

Her mouth rose in one corner. “Time will tell, I suppose. No doubt you’re curious as to why I asked you to come here.”

“Yes.”

She sat back. “You’ve heard of Fortune Cosmetics?”

“Of course.”

She nodded approvingly. “It’s no secret that the business is very successful in this country, but I want to extend the reach of our products. To bring something new to the brand. A kind of European flair, for want of a better expression. And I wanted to discuss that idea with you.”

Amersen frowned. “You do know that I own a nightclub and a winery? I mean to say, I don’t have any connection to the cosmetics business in my country.”

“I know that,” she replied. “But when it comes to my company, I like to approach opportunities from different angles.”

Amersen linked his hands together. “I know you founded the company, but I thought that Graham Fortune Robinson was now CEO of Fortune Cosmetics.”

“He is,” she said. “He took on the role over a year ago, and he’s doing a wonderful job.”

“But?” Amersen prompted.

“But Fortune Cosmetics is still my company, and I’m working on several projects at the moment. Including this one.”

“I’m a project?” he asked, biting back a grin, thinking about the garden nymph and how she’d suggested he was being interviewed and how it actually felt like he was. He was almost tempted to ask Kate who the woman in the garden was. But didn’t. This was the time for business.

“Potentially,” Kate replied. “I want to promote the brand into Europe, and into France in particular. I would like you to help me do that.”

Stunned, Amersen straightened his back. “And how would I do that, precisely?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Why me?” he asked bluntly.

She smiled lightly. “Because I think you know the French. I think you know Europe. I think you know what people want, and without sounding condescending, I believe you can recognize a good business opportunity on a level that’s rarely seen in someone so young.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand a little. “Yes, I’ve done my research. I know much about you. I’ve read your blog and I’m familiar with your accomplishments, including your financial success, and I must say, I’m impressed. You have a knack for getting right down into the core of things...and people respond to that. I particularly enjoyed the blog you did recently about society’s almost insatiable appetite for celebrity gossip. And since you’re something of a celebrity yourself, I imagine you were speaking from experience.”

Amersen shrugged. “In general terms. If you put yourself in the public eye, gossip and innuendo almost happen organically. I have a reputation for writing the truth along with a good dose of cynicism... If I’m prepared to dish it out, I have to be prepared to take it, as well.”

Kate nodded and laughed softly. “Yes, exactly. You know, you and I are a lot alike, Amersen. We’re both ambitious and driven by the need to have more than just an ordinary life.”

Amersen stilled, wondering if she was going to mention the family connection—if that was why she believed they shared similar traits. He’d prepared himself for her questions when he’d made the decision to fly to Texas and would certainly tell Kate the truth if she asked.

“I’ve lived a life that many consider glamorous and entitled,” she went on to say. “A life that many have envied. But I’ve had to work hard for every inch of my success. Much like yourself, I suspect.”

Amersen waited for her to slip Gerald Robinson’s name into the conversation, figuring she had the perfect segue. But to his surprise, she didn’t. “Perhaps.”

She nodded agreeably. “Which is why I believe that a Beaudin/Fortune product would be a huge success. Something that would make the consumer feel a little bit of that glamour...even if it’s for only a moment.”

Amersen’s instincts were piqued, but he wasn’t about to rush into an agreement about anything. Despite his reputation for being a little wild and impulsive, at the core he was prudent when it came to business. And he wasn’t about to do anything that could damage his reputation. Or his bank account.

“What kind of product are we talking about?”

“A men’s product, of course,” she replied. “A fragrance...something that is innately masculine, but also aspirational.”

A cologne? It seemed a huge stretch from his established nightclub and wine brand. But he was intrigued by the idea and the opportunity. “And you want to put my name on the box, is that right?”

She nodded again. “Yes.”

Amersen stood straighter. “It sounds risky.”

“Of course,” Kate said and chuckled. “But good business is often about risk. Didn’t you take a risk turning that old warehouse into a nightclub five years ago?”

“Indeed. Everyone thought I had lost my mind and that it would be a complete disaster.”

Her brows rose. “And everyone was wrong. I believe in risks...in taking chances. I believe in you, and I think we could do something special with this idea.”

Amersen was curious, but cautious. “I need to think about it.”

“Certainly,” she said and smiled knowingly. “But let’s not wait too long to pull together a plan. Opportunity like this doesn’t come along very often, as you are no doubt aware.” She got to her feet with an elegance that defied her years. “I would like to offer you a tour of the Fortune Cosmetics headquarters in town while you are here. Of course, that’s if you intend to stay in Austin for a few days?”

The same headquarters where Graham Fortune Robinson worked? Amersen wasn’t sure that was such a good idea and remained noncommittal. “I have a room booked at a hotel in town. I’ll think about your offer and get back to you.”

“Okay, we’ll speak again soon.”

He was being dismissed, but he didn’t mind. He had a lot to think about and needed solitude to do so. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promised.

Amersen shook Kate’s hand and left. He walked from the house, glancing once toward the rotunda before he got back into the limo. He pushed the memory of the woman in the white dress from his thoughts and tried to get his mind back to business. Fortune business. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into bed with the Fortunes.

With the woman in the white dress, sure.

He’d take her to bed in a microsecond.

And as the limo eased down the driveway, Amersen made a mental note to ask Kate about her the next time they met. Instinct told him they’d meet again. And he always trusted his instincts. They’d never failed him.

And he found it particularly ironic that being Gerald Robinson’s illegitimate son might just bring him good fortune.

Chapter Two

“Want to tell me what’s on your mind, chickpea?”

Robin clipped up the front of Butterfly’s rug and then patted the gray mare on the neck. She glanced sideways and saw her father, Cliff, staring at her. “Nothing,” she said as she left the stall and closed the stable door. “And don’t you think I’m a little old to still be called that?”

Cliff chuckled. “You’ll always be my little girl, no matter how old you are. That’s the thing with daughters,” he said and grinned. “They’re way more important than sons.”

“Don’t let Reece and Evan hear you say that,” she said and laughed, thinking of her two older brothers. “And I’m twenty-four, Dad...hardly a little girl.”

He grinned again in that familiar way she loved, his mouth only partially twisting thanks to a stroke he’d suffered a couple of years earlier. “Boys aren’t good for much of anything. They leave home and forget about their parents.”

Robin gently met her father’s gaze. “They’re successful lawyers, Dad,” she reminded him, thinking about how proud her parents actually were that her brothers were partners at an Austin firm. “And neither of them wanted to be ranchers.”

“Just as well we have you, chickpea.”

“I’m only a part-time rancher,” she said and hooked the hay net onto a peg by the stable door. “But you know I’m always going to be here to help you and Mom.”

“Until you get married and leave,” he said and moved across the stables, using the walking stick he resented, before resting on a couple of straw bales. “Mind you, if you’d married Trey, you would’ve stayed here, since he owns the ranch next door.”

“His parents own the ranch next door,” she corrected. “And first, I was never engaged to Trey. Second, he’s on the rodeo circuit so much I don’t think he’ll ever settle down.”

Her father visibly winced. “Sorry, chickpea... I didn’t mean to bring up old hurts.”

Robin shrugged. Everyone who lived within twenty miles of the ranch knew that Robin had caught Trey Hammond, her boyfriend of two years, pants down in a hotel room with two buckle bunnies. Robin had driven to Dallas to surprise him after he’d been on the road for two weeks competing in the bull-riding events at several rodeos. But she was the one who got the big surprise.

Looking back, she couldn’t believe how foolishly naive she’d been. Trey was a good-looking, charming flirt—everyone said so. She’d been warned off getting involved with him for years before they’d actually begun dating. But she hadn’t listened. She’d allowed her heart to do her thinking and eventually paid a whopping price for loving him. The biggest price of her life, as it had turned out. But dwelling on their broken relationship and everything that went with it wasn’t her style. She’d made a promise to herself that she would never get bogged down in grief or regret.

One day she would fall in love again. She would find a nice, sensible man she could honor and trust. Not a good-looking womanizer who couldn’t keep his manhood in his jeans for longer than a couple of weeks.

She checked her watch and made a sharp sound. “Jeez, I have to get to work.”

Her father was regarding her gently. “You work too hard. With everything you do around here and the hours you put in at the fancy ranch of Kate Fortune’s...it’s no wonder you look so tired.”

She smiled at her father’s words. “Thanks, Dad, love you, too.”

“Don’t ever doubt it,” he said and smiled. “Your mom and I are very proud of you.”

Her throat tightened. “I know. And I’ve got to run. You gonna be okay?”

“Fine,” he said and waved a hand. “I can finish up here. You go.”

Robin gave him a quick hug and then hightailed it back to her cabin, which was down a track through the small orchard and behind the main house her parents shared. She’d moved into the cabin when she was seventeen, citing a need for privacy in a family who loved her dearly, though they could be stifling en masse. But they’d always loved and supported her, despite her tendency to do things her own way.

She took a quick shower, dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, grabbed her jacket and shoved her feet into her favorite boots before she got into her truck and headed east. The drive to Sterling’s Fortune took less than fifteen minutes, but she loathed being late and was pleased to see she’d pulled up outside the greenhouse at five minutes to eight.

Robin adored her job. Working for Kate Fortune was a dream come true. As the master landscaper and gardener at the ranch, she spent her day doing what she loved most. Kate was fair and supportive of all of Robin’s landscaping concepts and sought her advice on plants and flowers for her own private garden. She’d landed the job a couple of years earlier after finishing technical college, when she’d been working at a nursery in Austin and was at the Fortune ranch delivering Kate’s new topiaries.

She knew who Kate was, of course. Everyone knew the iconic Kate Fortune. But she was surprised how genuine and down-to-earth the other woman was. They had talked for close to an hour about the ranch and Robin’s job, and the following day Kate called to offer her a position as the head groundskeeper. It was a no-brainer to accept the job—better salary, great working conditions and the opportunity to showcase her skills as a landscape designer. Working for Kate was a dream come true and Robin liked the older woman and her sweet-natured husband, Sterling Foster, immensely.

“Got a call from O’Neill’s this morning,” Otis said the moment she dropped her bag in the small room she used as an office in the back of the greenhouse. “They said that fancy fertilizer you wanted is back in stock.”

Otis Duke, in his midseventies, had a bad leg and back, but he knew more about roses and camellias than anyone she knew. She’d known him for years, ever since she was a fifth grader, in fact. Back then he was younger and fitter and had worked as a groundskeeper for the elementary school. When he was laid off due to restructuring, he’d found it impossible to get another job because of his age. But Robin wasn’t fazed and had offered him a part-time position the moment Kate hired her. Otis was her right hand and a good friend. She also had two other staff who worked a rotating schedule.

Robin dropped her keys in the bowl on her makeshift desk and turned to face Otis. “Great, thanks. I’ll head into town to pick it up later.” She grabbed the clipboard hanging on a hook by the door. “We have to pull up the three flower beds around the rotunda today so we can plant them out with the pansies that arrive tomorrow. I drew a quick sketch of the design,” she said and pointed to the outlines. “We can use Swiss chard here, and I thought we could try using ornamental cabbage around the edge for something a little different this year.”

Otis nodded. “Good choice. You certainly have an eye for this stuff. Mrs. Fortune stands a good chance of taking a prize this year.”

Robin was certain that Otis cared more about the annual prizes awarded by the local arbor society than either Kate or Sterling, but she nodded agreeably and gave him a copy of the plans. They had a busy day scheduled and needed to get started. And this time, Robin thought as she walked through the greenhouse and headed for the toolshed, she wouldn’t get waylaid by any kind of dazzling Frenchman.

Of course, her dreams had been plagued by images of Amersen Beaudin and his brilliant blue eyes. And broad shoulders. And hot body. But she supposed the man couldn’t help it if he was sex on legs. It was pure genetics that made him so damned attractive. And, she figured, a good slug of charm.

Just stay immune...

That should be easy. With a little luck, she’d never see him again.

That decided, Robin got started on the day’s chores and, after a quick trip into town to pick up the fertilizer she’d ordered, spent the remainder of the morning working on the beds around the rotunda with Otis. She was about to get to her feet and stretch out her back when the old man moved around to the patch she was digging up and called her name.

“What?” she asked, looking up.

“You know that fancy limo that was here yesterday?” he said, both brows raised.

Her insides twitched. “Yes.”

“It’s back.”

* * *

Amersen had spent the better part of the past sixteen or so hours thinking about Kate Fortune’s proposition and what it would mean if he decided to get involved. The hotel room, as swanky and comfortable as it was, had been a little cloistering, and he’d spent some of the morning walking the streets of Austin, familiarizing himself with the place. It was a nice city, and in an odd way, its diversity reminded him of Paris.

Kate called midmorning to arrange a meeting and he agreed quickly, eager to have a more detailed conversation with her about the proposal. The opportunity to be part of the Fortune portfolio appealed to him, but it also felt like a red flag waved in front of a bull.

He wasn’t ready to be outed as Gerald Robinson’s biological son, especially since Gerald clearly had no interest in him. And the closer he got to anyone named Fortune, the greater the risk of that happening. But to dismiss the business potential...that could turn into career suicide. He wanted to expand his brand through Europe and into the United States, and he wasn’t going to let an insignificant fact such as being Gerald’s illegitimate son derail those plans.

When the limo pulled up outside the ranch house, he had all his usual resolve back with a vengeance. And yet, as he got out of the limo and walked up the path to Kate’s home, he was foolishly thinking about the woman in white. She’d invaded his dreams the night before—with her beautiful hair and sassy mouth—and he wanted to see her again. He looked toward the rotunda and tried to ignore the disappointment that briefly constricted his chest.

Stay focused, Beaudin.

Kate greeted him warmly, dressed impeccably in black and white iconic Chanel.

“Thank you for coming back to see me,” she said. “Coffee?”

He nodded. “Sure. So, you said you had some more detail from our discussion yesterday?”

“Yes,” she replied and poured coffee for them both. Once they were both seated, she pushed a narrow gray folder across the coffee table. “Take a look.”

Amersen flipped through the pages, reading quickly, scanning the proposal with interest. The outline was brief but detailed enough to pique his curiosity.

“Amersen Noir,” she said and smiled, her brows arched. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t deny her savvy. Piggybacking on the success of his nightclub made good business sense.

It was cologne. High-end and obviously expensive. And with his name on the bottle. There were stats, graphs and a mocked-up illustration of the product.

“It’s an interesting concept,” he said quietly. “Although, as I said yesterday, I’m not sure my name alone is enough to successfully market a new fragrance.”

She smiled. “Your name and your image. And as with any new product, there would be an extensive brand campaign...billboards, media, advertising targeted to the customer this product would be designed for—primarily eighteen-to thirty-five-year-olds with significant disposable income. Much like yourself,” she added and smiled again. “Interested?”

“Intrigued,” he replied. “Conceptually, it’s an attractive idea. But I’m still not convinced my...image, as you put it, would be enough enticement as a selling tool.”

“You’re being modest.”

Amersen laughed. “Once you get to know me, Ms. Fortune, you’ll discover that modesty isn’t something I’m known for.”

Her mouth curled. “I’m quite aware of your image, Amersen. And your reputation. You’re successful, hardworking, arrogant, opinionated, brash and cynical. And that’s what this product and campaign needs. I think you possess that elusive Midas touch. And I want to capitalize on that, because it’s good business.”

Kate was frank, which he liked, but her confidence didn’t entirely allay his concerns. “And what if these arrogant, spendthrift workaholics don’t come to the party?”

“They will,” she assured him. “I have a sense about these things. So do you,” she said pointedly. “That’s why you’re a millionaire many times over. And why you pour so much effort into your nightclub and your wine brand. Young men will buy this product because they want to be like you. And young women will buy this product because they want their young men to be you.”

He raised a brow. “That’s quite an endorsement.”

“It’s all in the proposal,” she said and motioned to the folder in his hand. “We tested the market, did some core group evaluations...the results all came back positive. But if you need more, let’s say, immediate assurance, just bear with me a moment.”

She stood and walked toward the small writing desk by the fireplace. She made a quick call, fiddled with a few files on the desk and then turned back to him. Amersen got to his feet and was about to speak when the door opened and a young woman suddenly stood at the threshold.

It was her.

Only this time she wasn’t wearing a white dress. She wore jeans, a shirt and boots and held gardening gloves in one hand. Still, he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Her eyes were brilliantly blue, her long hair cascading down her back. And she had curves that were so damned sexy that his libido did a wild leap.

“So,” Kate said, looking toward the younger woman. “What do you think?”

“What do I think?”

The sexy drawl made his blood surge.

“Of him,” Kate replied, waving a hand. “First impressions. And be brutally honest.”

Amersen ignored the notion that he was suddenly about to be studied like something under a microscope. His ego was healthy enough to take a little visual assessment. Plus, it gave him time to look her over in return. And he did look. Every second stretched like elastic. She didn’t say a word; she simply let her eyes roll over him, up and down, and he did the same, missing nothing, lingering in places that in other circumstances might be considered highly inappropriate.

When his gaze returned to her face, she was waiting for him, and the connection was so hot it was visceral. He didn’t imagine how her mouth parted fractionally, or how her cheeks were now tinged with color. But she didn’t back down. She met him stare for stare. She had gumption by the bucket load, and he suddenly discovered that he liked gumption...a lot.

Finally, she spoke. “Ms. Fortune, this man is hot.”

Amersen bit back his amusement at her outrageous response. Because he was hot...right under the collar. And she knew it! There was flirtation in her dancing blue eyes. And awareness. And mischief. He knew those things well. They were usually his trademark when confronted by an attractive woman. Only now, with this woman, he felt as though the tables had been well and truly turned.

“Amersen, this is Robin Harbin,” Kate said. “She’s the master landscape gardener here at Sterling’s Fortune.”

Robin.

“Good morning, mademoiselle,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t find any kind of ring on her left hand. He didn’t, which pleased him. Still, a woman who looked like Robin Harbin wasn’t likely to be unattached. “It’s a pleasure to meet you...again.”

“You’ve met before?” Kate’s voice was filled with interest.

“Briefly,” Robin replied, her gaze still locked with his. “Yesterday, in the rotunda. I was telling Mr. Beaudin how you like people to be on time for appointments.”

Kate laughed softly. “Such a reputation I have.”

“Sometimes,” Robin said and smiled, “reputation is enough to make an accurate assessment.”

Amersen held her gaze. It was a very pointed remark, and they both knew it. She knew enough about him to come to some kind of judgment. Certainly, it was easy enough to click a few buttons on a computer and discover who he was, since he spent much of his time working social media to his advantage. But he knew what she’d find if she dug a little. Gossip and innuendo. Inflated facts about his lifestyle. Sure, he lived his life to the fullest, but if he slept around as much as the media reported, he’d have little time for anything else.

“And sometimes you shouldn’t believe everything you read,” he said and smiled lightly.

“True. But I generally trust my instincts.”

Amersen bit back a grin.

“So, Robin,” Kate said quietly, “Amersen was just saying how he wasn’t sure his image is enough to sell a high-end fragrance. What do you think?”

She looked him over again, and Amersen felt himself twitch all over. He was sure this woman, with her sexy drawl, worn jeans and gardening gloves, wouldn’t have any kind of clue what it took to successfully market a product like an expensive fragrance.

But she didn’t look the least bit overwhelmed by the question. She shrugged one shoulder and tilted her head a fraction. “Well, he’s certainly attractive enough. And has a distinctive online status. All things considered, I can’t see why it wouldn’t be a successful venture. And sometimes good business is about risk, correct?”

Now Amersen laughed. “You know this, do you?”

Her chin came up, defiant and annoyed. “I know opportunity when I see it.”

For a moment, he wondered if she was talking about the fragrance...or something else. The awareness between them was undeniable, and Amersen was astute enough to recognize a woman’s interest.

“Yes,” he said, briefly motioning to her appearance, “I’m sure you see much opportunity from your position out in the garden bed.”

Her chin rose again, higher, more defiant, more annoyed. And then she laughed, as though she found him hilarious. “And I’m sure you’re one of those men in love with the sound of their own voice.”

Kate cleared her throat, as though sensing the sudden tension developing. “Ah, Amersen,” the older woman said quietly, “Robin is more than simply a gardener. She has a degree in plant biology and often—”

“I’m sure Mr. Beaudin isn’t interested in my qualifications,” she said, gently cutting Kate off.

And she was right. He wasn’t interested in her qualifications. But he was interested in her. More so with each passing second. “My apologies if I offended you, Miss Harbin.”

Sure, he apologized. But he didn’t mean it. And she knew it!

She waved an uninterested hand, but even that seemed fake and insincere. One thing about her—she couldn’t take criticism. He bit back a grin, realizing they had a common trait, and decided he liked her more with each passing second.

“So...Kate,” Amersen said and gestured to the folder in his hands, “shall we get back to business?”

The older woman nodded. “Of course.” She looked toward Robin and smiled. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“Certainly,” she replied and glanced at him as though he was something unpleasant.

“Thank you for your help, mademoiselle,” Amersen said and raised a brow. “It was most enlightening.”

“Anytime,” she said and smirked. “See you around the gazebo. Or not.”

Then she turned and left the room.

“That’s Robin,” Kate said, as though to remind him.

But Amersen didn’t need reminding. Earlier he’d made the decision to stay in Austin for a few days. He wanted time to think over Kate’s business proposal.

And he wanted time to get Robin Harbin into his bed.

* * *

Gorgeous, yeah. Nice...definitely not! That was all Robin could think as she stomped her way back to the greenhouse, fuming from head to toe.

She was still steaming when Otis approached her half an hour later and said he would be spending the rest of the day in the small orchard at the rear of the big house. And still pissed an hour after that when she was elbow-deep in potting mixture in the orchid hothouse, slicing through the soil with a small, pronged fork. Using her pent-up energy made her feel better...and took her mind off a certain unbearable Frenchman. She’d made up her mind that she never wanted to see him again. Or speak to him. Or share air with him.

“Do you always attack your work with such...enthusiasm?”

Amersen.

Robin took a deep breath and straightened her back, then pivoted on her heels and turned to face him. He stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb, hands in his pockets, jacket open and his tie a little askew. He looked like he belonged on a billboard and her treacherous, damned libido started jumping around like a jackhammer.

“Are you lost?”

He smiled a stunning, megawatt smile that did little to alleviate the way her blood was now surging through her veins from a combination of loathing and lust. She’d already decided she hated him and had no intention of changing her mind on that score. He could smile at her all he wanted.

“No,” he replied flatly. “I was looking for you.”

Her suspicions soared. “Why?”

“Because I think I offended you earlier.”

She smiled übersweetly, plunged the fork into a pot and pulled off her gloves. “I’d have to care what you think to be offended, wouldn’t I?”

“I meant no disrespect, mademoiselle.”

“Sure you did,” she shot back quickly. “You wanted to put me in my place, and you did exactly that. I mean, what would a mere gardener know about big business...right?” She smiled again, with so much saccharine sweetness it made her teeth hurt.

He laughed deeply, and the rich, sexy sound echoed in her ears. Damn. Why couldn’t he be old and ugly? And not possess charm by the bucket load? And why had he come looking for her? It certainly wasn’t for some half-meant, absurd apology.

“Let me take you to dinner to make up for my...offense.”

He wanted to take her to dinner? Like, on a date?

She laughed out loud. “You’re not serious.”

“Perfectly.”

She laughed again, this time without humor. “Ah, no, thanks.”

“Do you need some time to consider the request?”

His formal, ridiculous manner turned her humorless smile into a scowl. “What I need, Mr. Beaudin, is to never see you again. Go away. I have work to do.”

“Surely you must take a break,” he said and pushed himself off the door frame. “If not tonight, perhaps tomorrow night?”

He strolled toward her, arms loosely at his sides, but with a stealth she found both exciting and annoying. She wanted him gone. “Give it a rest, Amersen,” she said, using his name for the first time and stretching out the vowels with an exaggerated drawl. “Your blue eyes and sexy accent might work in the city, but out here in my greenhouse, there’s no one to impress.”

“Except for you.”

His ego was astounding!

“I’m not interested in being impressed by you.”

“Why?”

She stared at him. “Huh?”

“Why?” he said again. “Or rather, why not?”

“Because...” She was uncharacteristically lost for words. “Because I...”

“Are you married? Do you have a boyfriend? Lover?” He asked the question with so much self-assured arrogance she couldn’t help but gape at him. “Someone who might object to my...interest?”

Interest? She laughed out loud. “Really, can you hear yourself?”

“Perfectly,” he replied, coming a little closer, so close that they were now barely a foot apart.

The air seemed to sizzle, and she fought the urge to step backward. She wasn’t about to be outmaneuvered by this man. She wanted him to know exactly how she felt about him, maybe starting with a swift knee to the groin area. Which made her glance down, then up, and then realize she looked as though she was checking him out!

“I have... I have work to do,” she said and fumbled over her words before meeting his gaze. “And I don’t have the time to—”

“Have dinner with me,” he said softly. “You won’t regret it.”

He was wrong. She would regret it. Just like she regretted the idea that she was actually considering it. Because, hell and damnation, he was absolutely the most gorgeous man she had ever met...and she wasn’t the least bit immune to him. She was hot all over. Her entire body was about to be set on fire, as though he was the spark and she was the kindling.

She swallowed hard. “No. I can’t.”

“Robin,” he said, her name almost sounding like a caress. And thinking about his voice caressing her didn’t help, either. Because all she could imagine was how it would feel if his hands did the same to her body! “Life is too brief to think about what we can’t do.”

She stepped back and pressed her hip against the table. “That’s just your arrogance talking,” she shot back. “Because you like to get your own way.”

“Of course,” he replied, not denying it. “I am a man, and we generally like to get exactly what we want.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Perhaps you could make allowances for that.”

She laughed again. If it weren’t so ridiculous, it would be hilarious. “You’re an egotistical snob...that’s something I can’t make allowances for.”

He smiled, his blue eyes glittering. “I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.”

“Go away.”

He didn’t move. “So, you didn’t answer my question...about having a husband. Or boyfriend. Or lover.”

The way he said the word lover made her skin prickle with a heady kind of awareness. Because he clearly had designs on the role. It was madness. They hardly knew each other. She didn’t get swept away by good looks. Sure, Trey had been good-looking...but not like this. And she hadn’t lusted after him the way she was silently and foolishly lusting after Amersen Beaudin.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m single...and happily so. However, I do have two older brothers and a father who would need only one word from me to come after you with a shotgun, Mr. Beaudin.”

“You should probably call me Amersen,” he said and then laughed so sexily her knees actually trembled. “Since we’ll be going on a date.”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” she refuted. “Not ever.”

“I can wait. I’ll be in town for a week or so.”

Robin planted her hands on her hips. “You can wait all you like...it won’t make any difference.”

“That’s harsh. But you know, I think you’d like me if you gave me a shot.”

She made a bored, huffing sound. “A shot? I wouldn’t go out with you even if you were a prince. And not even if I had a fairy godmother who could turn a pumpkin into a carriage or even if I owned a pair of glass slippers.”

He chuckled. “That’s an interesting idea. You have a lot of spunk, Robin. I like that about you.”

“I’m happy for you,” she responded. “Now you can leave and go back to playing with your new perfume or writing one of your cynical and witty blog posts. Some of us have actual work to do. Goodbye.” She said it to belittle and embarrass him. But he didn’t look the least bit embarrassed or belittled. He looked amused. And cocky. He looked like insults weren’t so much as a blip on his radar. He looked as though he could handle anything from anyone. Including her.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and then tossed a small business card on the table. “My cell number. Call when you’re ready to admit you want me.”

Robin stared after him for several minutes after he left. Furious. Enraged. Appalled.

And totally—and unbelievably—turned on.

Chapter Three

“Robin, could you come up to the house when you get a chance? There’s something I would like to show you.”

“Of course,” she said in response to Kate’s request. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

It was early Wednesday afternoon, and Robin was glad for the interruption. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours deriding herself for allowing Amersen Beaudin to get into her head. Which made her even more determined to make sure he didn’t get into her pants!

Foolishly, she carried his crumpled business card in her back pocket. Not that she intended on calling him. Not ever. But she didn’t want to leave it lying around the greenhouse or her own home. The best place for it was the trash. And she’d do that when she got home. With that decided, she left her office and quickly headed up to the main house and walked through the back door.

Kate entered the room to greet her and suggested they go into the front lounge room.

Robin lingered in the large foyer for a moment. “The tree arrives tomorrow,” she told Kate and waved a hand toward the staircase. “So I can start the Christmas decorations for you tomorrow.”

“Okay, lovely,” Kate replied.

“I know I’m running a little behind schedule,” she said. “The cypress I ordered wasn’t available in the right size, so I had to find another farm to get the—”

“Robin,” the older woman said firmly, cutting her off, “I know you’ll have the house looking wonderful, just as you did for Thanksgiving, and for last year’s Christmas celebrations. Sterling and I have the utmost faith in you, and you never let us down. Now, come into the lounge.”

Robin stalled. “Is everything all right?”

“Perhaps you can tell me the answer to that.”

Concerned, Robin followed her employer through the doorway and then stopped dead in her tracks. She hoped everything was okay. Kate looked serious, and that alarmed her.

“Ms. Fortune, I’m not sure what—”

“Perhaps you can explain this,” Kate said and waved her hand in an arc, motioning toward the long buffet beside the fireplace.

Where she saw a pumpkin.

The biggest and brightest orange pumpkin she had ever seen in her life.

“It arrived half an hour ago,” Kate said and pointed to a box beside it that was wrapped in white paper and had a silver bow attached to it. “Along with this. And there’s a card with your name on it.”

Robin approached the buffet and stared at the pumpkin and the box. She knew immediately, of course, that Amersen was responsible. The relevance of the pumpkin wasn’t lost on her. She fingered the bow on top of the box and then slowly lifted the lid, gasping when she pushed aside a couple of layers of tissue paper and saw what lay within.

“Oh my goodness,” Kate said, peering over her shoulder. “Are those what I think they are?”

Robin nodded and pulled her hand away. “Yes, I think they’re exactly what they look like.”

Glass slippers.

They were exquisite. She picked one up and held it up to the light, mesmerized by the way it shimmered. It was ridiculous. And at the same time, utterly romantic. Perhaps the most romantic gesture of her life.

“Are you planning on wearing them?”

It was so ridiculous that Robin couldn’t stop laugher from bubbling low in her throat. “He’s out of his mind.”

“He?” Kate echoed. “So you know who sent them?”

She nodded and grabbed the card, pulling out a small square of cardboard and reading his dark, sexy scrawl.

I’m not a prince... I’m just a man who knows what he wants. Have dinner with me?

“Robin?”

Kate’s voice jerked her back from fairy-tale land and forced her to regather her wits. “I’m sorry about this.”

“Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” Kate asked.

Robin sighed. “It’s Mr. Beaudin’s idea of a joke, that’s all.”

The older woman’s frown disappeared, and then she chuckled. “Amersen, I see. Looks as though you made quite the impression.”

“He thinks he’s too charming to resist.”

“And is he?” Kate inquired, brows angled.

“In his dreams, maybe. I’m really sorry about this,” she said, embarrassed and increasingly uncomfortable. She didn’t want her personal life intruding on her work. And she didn’t want Kate Fortune to think that she was in any way involved with Amersen Beaudin. “I’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”

Kate waved a hand. “There’s no harm done, Robin. Just...be careful, okay. By all accounts, Amersen has something of a wild reputation when it comes to women. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”

Robin managed a brittle laugh. “Don’t worry about that. I have absolutely no intention of getting involved with him.”

“Good,” Kate said and smiled. “Sometimes it’s easy to get swept up in romantic gestures.” She pointed to the slippers. “Although they are quite spectacular.”

Robin nodded in a vague way. “I’ll ask Otis to help me get rid of the pumpkin,” she said, feeling ludicrous having to say such a thing as she snatched up the box and card.

“It might make a nice Christmas decoration,” Kate said and grinned. “Or a pie.”

Robin chuckled. “Good idea.”

“And what girl hasn’t wanted a pair of glass slippers at least once in her life.”

She couldn’t help laughing brittlely as she left the room and then got back to work. Later, once she had the pumpkin and the slippers stowed inside her pickup, it was close to one thirty. She always finished early on Wednesdays and was glad to be heading home by two o’clock. Once she was inside, she dumped the pumpkin on the kitchen table alongside the shoe box.

And she seethed. She paced and cursed and muttered words she knew were usually heard in bar brawls. And she played with the business card twisting between her fingertips. He’d embarrassed her in front of her employer. And worse, he had made it impossible for her to not think about him every single minute of the day.

Damn him...

It was payback time. If he wanted dinner, she’d give him dinner. She’d give him a dinner he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The kind of dinner that would make a womanizing, commitmentphobic man like Amersen Beaudin run a mile. Robin grabbed her cell and quickly dialed the number before she had a chance to talk herself out of her craziness.

“Hello.”

God, his voice was like being stroked along the spine with a feather.

“Okay...dinner,” she said quietly. “But on my terms.”

“Robin.” He said her name on a breath. “It’s good to hear from you.”

“My place,” she said and swiftly rattled off the address, specifics and directions. “Four o’clock.”

Then she hung up before he could reply. And before she lost her nerve.

* * *

Amersen was intrigued by Robin’s rushed request. And as he drove the BMW through a set of wide whitewashed gates and down the long gravel driveway later that afternoon, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so keen to spend time with a woman.

Of course, logically, he knew he was being foolish. He’d come to Austin for business. Not pleasure. But hell would freeze before he’d miss out on a chance to see Robin Harbin again. Particularly on her turf.

Still, he figured he was savvy enough to be able to mix business and a little pleasure without one overtaking the other. He had another meeting scheduled with Kate the following day and then a tour of the Fortune Cosmetics headquarters booked for the afternoon. He’d agreed to the tour only because he’d discovered that Graham Fortune Robinson was out of the city for a few days. He had no intention of meeting any of his half siblings while he was still considering Kate’s offer. There was time for that later. Much later. Maybe never. The more time he spent in Austin, the less inclined he was to dig any deeper into his family background. And since Gerald Robinson had never made any attempt to contact him, Amersen figured he was better off not getting involved any more than he already was.

Which meant he had more time to concentrate on Kate’s business proposal.

And Robin.

He eased the car to a halt, recalling the directions Robin had confirmed via text message. She lived in the small cottage behind the larger house, which was owned by her parents. The ranch house was nowhere near as large and imposing as the Fortune estate, but the place was tidy and looked well cared for. Amersen got out of the rental car and locked the door. He heard a dog bark and looked around, spotting a lazy-looking yellow hound peering at him from the side of the barn. There were chickens pecking the ground and a few head of cattle grazing in the paddocks to the right of the main house. He walked up to the cottage and noticed a note pinned to the door.

A. Meet me in the barn. R.

He grinned. It was cute. She was playing with him, and he liked it. The dog watched him as he walked toward the barn and then headed through the doors. There were horse stalls on either side, and Amersen saw her the moment he entered. She stood at the end of a row of stalls, pushing hay into a net. Wearing jeans, a pale chambray shirt, a sheepskin jacket and her purple cowboy boots, she was undeniably sexy.

“Have you ditched the limo?” she asked without turning, and he figured she must have watched him drive up to the house.

Amersen moved beside her. “I generally like to drive myself around.”

She looked sideways. “Texas is a big place. Don’t get lost.”

He grinned. “I’m sure I could rely on you to come and find me if I lost my way.”

She made a scoffing sound. “I think I’d just let you keep driving.”

“You know,” he said softly, trying to ignore the way his palms itched with a sudden need to touch her, “I don’t really think that you would.”

“That’s because you don’t know me in the least, Mr. Beaudin,” she shot back hotly.

“I’d like to change that,” he said, feeling the heat off her body almost as though she were pressed against him. “And I thought we’d agreed you would call me Amersen.”

She met his gaze levelly, and her mouth twitched. “Did we?”

“Yes.”

“Okay... Amersen... I’m going for a ride. Care to join me?”

“Horseback riding?” He looked around and saw there were two horses saddled and bridled and waiting in separate stalls. “You mean...now?”

“Sure,” she said and grinned slightly. “Unless you’re afraid of horses...or can’t ride.” She shrugged her lovely shoulders. “But I guess I thought a man as talented and successful as you could do just about anything. Of course, you must correct me if I’m wrong. If there are things you can’t do, please, let me know.”

There was pure, unadulterated challenge in her words. He glanced down at his pale gray business shirt, pressed trousers, suit jacket, hand-stitched Italian leather shoes and the wool Burberry coat he suspected cost more than she made in a month and then looked back into her eyes. She wanted him to refuse, to back down. She had something to prove, and making him look like a whiny, first-rate fool was clearly on the top of her list.

“Sure,” he said and smiled. “Why not.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “Really? You can ride?”

He nodded. “A little. Let’s go.”

For a brief moment, he wondered if he’d called her bluff. But the challenge in her expression returned quickly, and within minutes both horses were out of their stalls and tethered to a hitching rail outside the barn.

“This is Blackjack,” she said and ran a hand down the neck of the tall chestnut gelding. “He’s all yours. Give him his head and not too much heel, and you should be fine.”

“Should be?”

“Even the quietest mount can be unpredictable.”

Amersen nodded, acted dumb and took the reins from her. “Thank you.”

She looked him up and down. “You know, you’re not exactly dressed for this. I’ll understand if you change your mind.”

“I think we both know that a Stetson isn’t going to make a difference to my technique.”

There was something oddly inflammatory about his words, and they both knew it. Amersen stared at her, feeling the awareness between them as though it possessed a life force of its own. He couldn’t quite fathom his reaction to her. He’d known countless beautiful women and had bedded more than he cared to admit to, but there was something about Robin that affected him on a deep, impossibly intimate level. And ego aside, he was certain they’d end up in bed together.

She passed him a safety helmet that was propped on the fence. “You should wear this.”

He glanced at the Stetson on her head. “I think I’d prefer one of those.”

“Not on my watch,” she said and placed the helmet in his hand. “Don’t want to hurt that pretty head of yours, Mr. Beaudin.”

“Amersen,” he corrected.

She ignored him and headed back toward the stables, returning a few moments later carrying a pair of worn cowboy boots.

“They are my brother’s but should fit,” she said as she passed them to him. “I’m the kind of girl who believes in protection.”

Amersen’s skin heated. She was so damned provocative it was doing crazy things to his usual good sense.

He didn’t quite understand it. Women never shifted his focus. One day...maybe, someone would. A decade from now. Once he’d truly made his mark on the world. Once his name and brand were renowned around the globe. And he still had a long way to go on that score, he reminded himself. Sure, he dated supermodels and dined with rock stars and politicians and had so many followers on social media he was known simply by his first name, but that could change in an instant. He knew that fame was a slippery slope. What he really wanted was his wine brand to be revered and served in the best restaurants and hotels in the world. He also wanted Noir to be the go-to place in Paris. He wanted it all. Everything that was his to take. If opportunity arose to build his brand and business portfolio, Amersen would do whatever was needed to be done.

Without being derailed.

But he felt derailed around Robin.

Big-time.

She smiled and grabbed the reins of the gray mare standing quietly beside the gelding. “This is Butterfly,” she said and then quickly sprang into the saddle. “And she has been known to kick, so don’t get too close to her rear end.”

He watched as she eased the mare sideways and moved along in line with the corral. Amersen admired the way she looked in the saddle—like she’d been born to ride. After a moment, he changed into the boots, pulled on the ridiculous helmet, grabbed the reins and eased himself up and into the wide Western saddle. It wasn’t what he was used to, but once he’d adjusted the stirrups, he was on his way, directing the horse in a line behind her.

He stayed back for the first ten minutes, following Robin’s lead as they wound their way around the ranch house and down a gravel road between a couple of fenced-off pastures. There were a few head of cattle in one and several horses in another. The horses all looked up as they passed, a couple pealing out a long whinny, while one stood on point and snorted, beating the ground with a front hoof in an assertion of authority.

Blackjack whinnied in reply, and Amersen noticed that Robin’s head turned immediately.

“Everything okay?” she asked, easing up the pace a little.

“Fine,” Amersen replied and caught up, moving alongside her. “Nice day for it.”

She glanced toward the sky. “It’s chilly, but still good weather. I guess you’re used to the cold.”

“Of course,” he replied. “Although I’m not a fan of cold weather. But a Paris summer is like no other.”

She laughed. “Spoken like a proud Frenchman. Not that I’ve met one before you.”

“I am proud,” he said, shifting in the uncomfortable saddle. “One of my many charms.”

She laughed again. “You are charming,” she admitted. “Too much so. I’m not sure it’s good for me to spend too much time with you.”

“And yet,” he said and grinned, “you invited me to dinner.”

“It’s the least I could do,” she said and glanced sideways. “Considering you bought me a pair of shoes.”

“Did you try them on?”

She laughed. “Do I look like a glass-slipper kind of girl?”

“I’m sure you could be anything you wanted.”

When her laughter rang out again, an odd feeling pitched deep in Amersen’s chest. He couldn’t remember when he’d last spent time with a woman and simply enjoyed frivolous and flirtatious banter. Usually—no, always—there seemed to be an agenda. He worked and played hard. He didn’t have time to waste on getting to know someone. And yet, he wanted to get to know Robin. Sure, he also wanted to get her into bed. But he enjoyed her company. She didn’t waste time on flattery. She didn’t pander to his ego. She was spirited and beautiful and had gotten under his skin in a matter of days.

“I’m curious,” she said and glanced his way. “Where did you find a pair of glass slippers in this town?”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I had them flown in overnight from New York. A friend did me a favor.”

“A friend?”

“An actress friend,” he supplied. “And I mean just a friend.”

“None of my business,” she said and waved a hand. “Still, didn’t she think it was an odd request?”

“Nothing’s out of the ordinary for Ortega.”

“Ortega?” she echoed after a moment’s silence. “The Ortega?”

Amersen nodded. “Yes.”

“The Ortega who is one of the most famous and glamorous actresses in the world?”

He smiled to himself. Ortega was probably as hometown as Robin, since she had been born and bred in Montana and had clawed her way to a career first in Hollywood and now on Broadway in New York. Foolishly, he wanted Robin to understand that they were only friends, since Ortega was close to two decades older than him and a close friend of his mother’s.

“She and my mother have been friends for a number of years,” he explained. “They met before I was born, while my mother was traveling through Montana.”

“I didn’t realize your mom was American.”

“She’s not,” he replied, thinking he’d said too much already. He didn’t want anyone knowing that Suzette had spent time in the United States, especially Texas, or that she had once been au pair to Gerald and Charlotte Robinson’s children. That would encourage questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. “She’s French, but she traveled a little when she was a young woman, before she married my father. She and Ortega stayed in touch when she returned to Paris. They’ve been friends since.”

She nodded briefly. “And Ortega just happened to have a pair of glass slippers on hand? Or is she used to you asking for movie props to impress girls?”

He laughed. Put like that, it did sound ridiculous. “It was my first time,” he admitted and grinned, shifting in the saddle. “But I like that you’re impressed.”

“That’s not what I said.” She rolled her eyes and exhaled. “You really do think a lot of yourself. Must be freakin’ exhausting.”

He laughed again. Damn, she was intoxicating. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Her gaze sharpened. “That’s none of your business.”

“Touchy subject?” he asked, easing up on the reins a little.

“No,” she snapped back. “I did. I don’t have one now.”

“Messy breakup?”

She shrugged. “Aren’t breakups usually messy? Unless you’re one of those people who never lets anyone get too close because you’re a commitmentphobe.”

It was a deliberate verbal punch. “You’ve been reading the gossip mags.” He chuckled. “Don’t believe everything you see in print.”

“Ever had a long-term relationship?”

Bang. No beating around the bush. “No.”

“My point exactly,” she said and clicked her mare forward. “Afraid of commitment.”

She rode off ahead, urging the horse into a slow canter, and Amersen held his mount back, mesmerized by the picture she evoked. Her body moved in unison with the horse, her hips floating back and forth in a steady rhythm that was unbelievably erotic to observe. She rode as though she had been born in the saddle, her movements fluid and easy, and Amersen’s blood heated. He’d never considered himself much of a voyeur, but watching Robin was like a narcotic—utterly addictive.

Transfixed, he took a few moments to pull his thoughts together and then followed, clicking the gelding forward. The animal was smooth and responsive and it didn’t take long for him to move up behind her.

“I’m not,” he said when he reached her, so turned on that he lost his balance for a second.

She reached out immediately and took hold of one rein, steadying the horse as he scrambled to regain his seat. Amersen cursed under his breath and quickly got himself under control.

“You’re not what?” she asked, releasing the rein.

“Afraid of commitment,” he replied.

“Yet you admit you’ve never had a serious relationship. And you’re, what?” she queried. “Twenty-five? Seems a little odd, that’s all.”

“Afraid of commitment and odd,” he said, his mouth twisting. “My list of flaws is growing by the second.”

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