A Fortunes Of Texas Christmas. Helen Lacey

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