Fortune's Perfect Valentine. Stella Bagwell

      

       MEET THE FORTUNES

      Fortune (?) of the Month: Wesley “Wes” Robinson. Aka Wes Fortune?

      Age: 33—and just a few minutes younger than his twin brother, which still irks him.

      Vital statistics: Six feet plus with dark hair you’d love to rumple, laser-blue eyes, and don’t forget that sexy brain.

      Claim to Fame: Wes is the computer genius behind most of Robinson Tech’s success.

      Romantic prospects: Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous believes “love” is nothing more than a chemical reaction. He thinks compatibility is a crock.

      “I don’t believe Vivian’s new app can possibly work. Finding your perfect match via smartphone?

      “However, I know a moneymaker when I see one. That’s why I’m spending so much time conferring with Vivian. It’s all about getting the product off the ground. And possibly proving my star developer wrong. It has nothing at all to do with her hazel eyes … or her persistent personality … or the way she gets me to reveal things I’d rather keep buried inside. I’ve heard enough of my father’s Fortune history to know that wishing for a lifetime love is simply a pipe dream. Or is it?”

      The Fortunes of Texas: All Fortune’s Children— Money. Family. Cowboys. Meet the Austin Fortunes!

       Fortune’s Perfect Valentine

      Stella Bagwell

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at [email protected].

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      To my husband, Harrell, and son, Jason.

       With love to my two Valentines.

      Contents

       Cover

       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

       Extract

       Copyright

Chapter One

      “So this little square picture of a key opening a heart is going to change the dating habits of the entire nation. I tap it with my fingertip and magically it will lead me to my true love.” With a mocking snort, Wesley Robinson pushed the smartphone aside. “What a crock of crap.”

      Vivian Blair scowled at the man sitting behind the wide mahogany desk. At this moment, it didn’t matter that he was her boss, who also happened to be Vice President of Research and Development at Robinson Tech. Nor did it matter that he happened to be the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. This project was her baby and she had no intentions of letting him make a mockery of her hard work.

      “I beg your pardon?” she asked, her voice rising along with her irritation. “This little button you’re calling a crock of crap just happens to be a product of your company. A company owned and operated by your family, I might add. Have you forgotten that you approved this idea months ago?”

      Ignoring her outburst, he calmly answered, “I’ve not forgotten anything, Vivian.”

      Throughout the six years she’d worked for Wes Robinson, he’d rarely called her by her given name, and on each occasion it had never failed to rattle her senses. Her boss was always strictly business. So having her name roll off his tongue was the closest he ever got to acknowledging she was a flesh-and-blood woman.

      Vivian shifted on the edge of the wingback chair and did her best to refocus her jolted thoughts on their debate. “Then why are you so intent on degrading the product? I thought you were convinced it was going to make the company a pile of money.”

      With confident ease, he leaned back in the oxblood leather chair. After slipping a pair of tortoise-framed glasses from his nose, he leveled a somewhat smug gaze on her face. Vivian had the very unprofessional urge to stick her tongue out at him.

      “I still believe the app is going to make money. And probably lots of it,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I believe the theory behind the dating site will hold up. In fact, I’m willing to bet that after a few months the app’s popularity will sink, simply because the public is going to realize that My Perfect Match won’t fulfill its promise. Still, I’m willing to gamble the initial sales of the app will outweigh its short lifespan.”

      It was hard enough for Vivian to deal with having his eyes sliding leisurely over her face, but hearing him discount her hard work was even worse.

      Leaning