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Falling for Fortune
Nancy Robards Thompson


Christopher who? As far as Christopher Fortune Jones is concerned, when he left Horseback Hollow, he left his past behind. No one needs to know that he grew up on a ranch, or that he never had any money, or that his father considers him a disappointment. Here in Red Rock he can simply be Christopher Fortune. Rich, powerful, successful Christopher Fortune. Kinsley Aaron has secrets of her own. The biggest one is that she has a crush on her sexy new boss. She thinks maybe he likes her, too. But he never talks about himself, and he never lets her get too close. Is she a fool dreaming of tomorrow with a man who seemingly has no past? Just what is Christopher Fortune hiding?









MEET THE FORTUNES!


Fortune of the Month: Christopher Fortune (Do not call him Chris Jones!)

Age: 26

Vital Statistics: Blue eyes, broad shoulders, six-pack abs. Recently hung up his spurs for a business suit.

Claim to Fame: The black sheep of the Jones family, he’s currently enjoying life in Red Rock—especially the “pretty girl smorgasbord.”

Romantic Prospects: He’s easy on the eyes, his wallet is full. He could have anyone … except the one girl he really wants.

“Leaving Horseback Hollow was the best thing I could have done. Now that I’m working for the Fortune Foundation, life is good. I have money, power and, most important, respect.

My new assistant, Kinsley, could not care less. She thinks I’m a player, born with a silver spoon in my mouth. She has no idea who I am inside or where I’ve come from to get where I am now. But there’s something about her that makes me want to tell her. Captain of industry Christopher Fortune may not be her type. But what if cowboy Chris Jones is?”

* * *

The Fortunes of Texas: Welcome to Horseback Hollow!


Falling for

Fortune

Nancy Robards Thompson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Award-winning author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON is a sister, wife and mother who has lived the majority of her life south of the Mason-Dixon line. As the oldest sibling, she reveled in her ability to make her brother laugh at inappropriate moments, and she soon learned she could get away with it by proclaiming, “What? I wasn’t doing anything.” It’s no wonder that upon graduating from college with a degree in journalism, she discovered that reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Since she hung up her press pass to write novels full-time, critics have deemed her books “funny, smart and observant.” She loves chocolate, champagne, cats and art (though not necessarily in that order). When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, hiking and doing yoga.


This book is dedicated to the memory of my sweet mother-in-law, Juanita Eitreim. I miss you every day.


Contents

Chapter One (#u8a9dc0b3-4509-5655-94d8-8ec34ef18538)

Chapter Two (#u6138caaf-3b7f-5321-9ace-9e4fa7b3c7dc)

Chapter Three (#ue7db5b37-5805-52d6-9e18-82fecb81eb28)

Chapter Four (#u5f0e5e92-bf74-5f8e-8d15-1813b60c6b2f)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve checked the directory three times. There’s nobody by that name listed.”

Strains of the new receptionist’s voice carried in through Christopher Fortune’s partially open door. He looked up from his in-office putting green.

What was her name again? He couldn’t remember. It was only the start of her second week. Jeez, but she was shrill. He’d have to talk to her about her tone. Not good for community relations. But first...

He realigned his stance as the golf pro had taught him, making sure that his toes were parallel to the pin at the end of the fourteen-foot portable green. He set the putter in the hollow part of his left hand and placed the right hand so that his right thumb rested on the left side of the shaft. He pulled back to take his shot—

“Sir, I don’t know what else to tell you.” Now her voice was teetering on exasperation. He couldn’t hear what the other person was saying, but she was giving him a headache. “We have a Christopher Fortune, but nobody by the name of Chris Jones works here. Could he be the one you’re looking for?”

The words made Christopher hit the ball a little too hard. It rolled off the end of the green and under the coffee table that was part of the furniture grouping at the end of the room.

Who was asking for Chris Jones?

* * *

Two months ago, Chris Jones had adopted his mother’s Fortune family name and moved to Red Rock from Horseback Hollow, Texas. He’d dropped the Jones portion of his name when he’d accepted the new job. Now, he was Christopher Fortune, vice president in charge of community relations for the Fortune Foundation.

Christopher set down his putter, walked over and fully opened his office door to see what the ruckus was about.

What the hell—

“Toby?” Christopher said flatly when he saw his brother and his new sister-in-law, Angie, standing there. “What are you doing here, man?”

The receptionist, a slight woman with close-cropped black hair, looked so young that she could’ve easily been mistaken for a sixteen-year-old. She turned and froze, all wide dark eyes and pale skin, when she saw Christopher.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Mr. Fortune. I didn’t understand that they were looking for you. They asked for Chris Jones.”

Now she was blushing.

Christopher glanced at the name plate that was front and center on the reception desk.

“Don’t worry about it, Beverly. It’s fine.”

“Hey, little brother,” Toby said, extending a hand. “Good to see you.”

Christopher shook Toby’s hand. His brother immediately pulled him into an awkward hold that their sister, Stacey, was fond of calling a man hug: a greeting that started as a handshake and ended with the guys leaning in and stiffly slapping each other on the back a couple of times.

When they broke apart, Christopher stepped back, reclaiming his dignity just in time to see both elevator doors open and Kinsley Aaron, the Foundation’s outreach coordinator, step into the reception area.

Her long, straight blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, framing her pretty face. God, she was gorgeous, even if she was a little too uptight for his taste. He straightened his tie and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to right what Toby’s enthusiastic bear hug had mussed.

Kinsley had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Those eyes were two of the reasons he always remembered her name. Although, the dowdy way she dressed wasn’t much of an enticement. He couldn’t figure out why such a beauty chose to dress like a schoolmarm. She always covered up as much of herself as possible. Didn’t she know her modesty only made him daydream about the gifts that were undoubtedly hidden beneath all that wrapping?

As Kinsley approached Beverly’s desk, she arched a brow at him. For a split second he could’ve sworn she’d read his mind. But he knew it was a ridiculous thought. She was probably just curious about Toby and Angie, since she tended to take her job so seriously. After all, this was an office where visitors generally came seeking help, something that typically fell into her community outreach division.

Before Kinsley could start asking questions, Christopher turned to his brother and sister-in-law. “Why don’t we go into my office? We can talk in there.”

He made quick work of ushering them out of the reception area. This sure as hell wasn’t the most ideal time or place for a family reunion. Especially when he was determined to keep his life in Horseback Hollow worlds apart from the new life he’d created for himself in Red Rock.

Before he shut the door, he cast one last glance back at Kinsley, who was still lingering by Bev’s desk. They locked gazes, and Christopher felt that old familiar zing that always happened when he looked into those eyes. The virtual vibration lasted even after she looked away.

And she was always the first one to look away.

He was pondering that when Toby said, “Since you were too darned busy to come home for the wedding, I decided I’d bring my beautiful bride to see you. Angie, you’ve met Chris before. Chris, this is my wife. Can you believe it?” he said, grinning. “I have a wife.”

“Good to see you again, Angie,” Christopher said, keeping his tone all business and shaking Angie’s hand.

“So, they call you Mr. Fortune around here?” Toby asked, a note of good-natured ribbing in his voice. But before Christopher could answer, Toby let loose a low whistle as he glanced around Christopher’s new digs. “Would you look at this fancy place? I guess you’re doing all right for yourself, little brother.”

“It’s a pretty sweet gig,” Christopher said. “Actually, I wanted to work directly for Uncle James at JMF Financial, but how could I argue after I found out that he’d created a position just for me? I’m sure he could do something for you if you want. All you have to do is ask.”

What Christopher didn’t say was that the work was a little boring and “do-gooder” for his taste. But the salary they were paying him, which was commensurate with the Fortune name rather than his experience, more than made up for the lack of excitement.

If Christopher had learned one thing over the past two months it was that he had to create his own excitement, ensure his own future. It wasn’t as if he’d been blazing trails in Horseback Hollow. Nope, back home, he’d been bored and broke.

And a nobody.

Now he had a job that people respected and the bank account to go with it. So he figured why not go for the trifecta and take on the Fortune name? It was his birthright, after all, even if his old man would be mad as hell when he found out.

But those were the breaks, weren’t they? His father Deke’s attitude was one of the things that had driven Christopher to Red Rock in the first place. Once he was settled, he’d gone to court and filed a petition to change his name. Once the judge had signed the order, Christopher Fortune said Hasta la vista, baby to Chris Jones and Horseback Hollow and claimed what was rightfully his.

Christopher glanced around his office, trying to see it through Toby’s eyes. The Fortune Foundation had been founded in memory of Lily Cassidy Fortune’s late husband, Ryan Fortune, who had died of a brain tumor nine years ago. The Foundation had started out in a small storefront on Main Street in downtown Red Rock but had since expanded and was now located in a stately three-story brick building just outside of town. Christopher had one of the corner offices with rich polished mahogany architectural wall paneling on the walls—or at least the ones that didn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows with a to-die-for view of the local landscape. His traditional executive’s desk and credenza still left enough room for the putting green, two chairs and a couch that were grouped conversation-style around a coffee table.

Hell, his office was bigger than his old studio apartment back in Horseback Hollow.

He directed Toby and Angie over to the couch. Until now, he hadn’t even tried out the office’s living room furniture.

“I just can’t get over the change in you,” Toby said.

Christopher turned to Angie, who was still as pretty as she had been in high school with her light brown hair, blue eyes and delicate features. His brother had done well catching her. He’d tell him so later if they had a private moment. But just as the thought crossed his mind, it was overshadowed by the hope that the newlyweds weren’t planning an extended visit in Red Rock. Christopher had work to do.

He hoped this visit wasn’t because Deke had sent Toby to do his dirty work. If any of his family got him it was Toby. But it would be just like Deke to send one of Christopher’s brothers to hassle him.

But right now, Toby was talking to Angie. “The Chris I knew never wore anything but jeans and boots. I don’t know who this suit is standing in front of me with those shiny pointy-toed shoes. How many crocodiles had to die to make those shoes?”

Christopher laughed, but it was a dry, humorless sound. “They’re not made out of crocodile,” Christopher said.

“It was a joke, Chris.” Toby frowned. “No offense, but you’re even acting differently. Just remember, I know where you came from.”

Awkward silence the likes of which he had never known with Toby hung in the air. He didn’t want to fight with him, and it seemed every time he opened his mouth he said the wrong thing.

That was the story of his life when it came to family. But Christopher wasn’t about to sit here in his own office and let family drag him down to feeling bad.

“How was the wedding?” Christopher asked, hoping for neutral ground. He directed the question to Angie, who had been remarkably quiet.

“I would say it was the happiest day of my life, but each day I wake up seems to take that title,” she said. “We wish you could’ve been there.”

“Yeah, well, it’s better that I didn’t come. That way the focus was on the two of you. All sunshine and happiness. No dark clouds, you know?”

Angie looked at him with big blue eyes.

“Well, we certainly did appreciate your generous gift. A thousand dollars was...” Angie shook her head as if at a loss for words.

“It was too much,” said Toby as he leaned forward and plucked a business card out of a brass holder sitting on the coffee table. “Ten crisp $100 bills. Leave it to my little brother not to miss an opportunity to show off— Wait. Christopher Fortune?” he read aloud from the business card. “Did they forget to print your entire last name on here?”

“No,” said Christopher.

Toby held up the card. “Where’s the Jones?”

Christopher shrugged, but didn’t feel the need to explain himself.

“So, that’s why the receptionist was having a hard time helping us.” Toby gestured with his thumb toward the reception area. “It’s true, then? They don’t even know who Chris Jones is?”

“Don’t take it personally, Toby,” Christopher said. “I just needed to make a fresh start.”

“How can I not take it personally? I mean, I get that you and Dad don’t see eye to eye on your moving to Red Rock and working here at the Foundation, but come on, Chris. What the hell? Aren’t you taking this a little too far?”

“Is that a question or an accusation?” Christopher challenged, holding his brother’s gaze until Toby leaned forward again and put the card back where he’d found it.

This life was exactly what he wanted.

He wanted what the Fortunes had: money, power, respect. He had gotten none of that back in Horseback Hollow. What was wrong with claiming it now?

“I figure the family can’t be any more disappointed in me now than they’ve always been. I never was any good to anyone around the ranch, anyway. Don’t you think they’d consider the new and improved Christopher Fortune a vast improvement over Chris Jones, the son who couldn’t do anything right?”

Toby looked down at his hands, then back up at Christopher. A somber expression crept into his eyes. “I don’t even know what to say to that, except that Mom asked me to tell you she loves you.”

Touché.

That was just about the only thing that Toby could’ve said to hit Christopher where he’d feel it.

The thing was, he didn’t even sound mad. Just...disappointed. A look that said, remember where you came from and don’t let the Fortunes change you into something you’re not.

He hadn’t forgotten and the Fortunes hadn’t changed him. He would be the first to admit that embracing the Fortunes’ world and starting on a desk job had taken some getting used to. He was surprised by how he sometimes missed not getting outside between the hours of nine and five. This indoor, sedentary job has been a challenge, but every time he looked at the view outside the windows of his executive’s office or at his bank account balance, it got easier and easier.

“Y’all must be hungry,” Christopher said. “Come on, let’s go get a bite to eat. I’ll treat you to lunch.”

* * *

“Excuse me, darlin’.” Kinsley Aaron frowned as she looked up from the notes she was taking while manning the third-floor reception desk for Bev. Christopher Fortune stood outside his office door, smiling broadly, no doubt thinking he was God’s gift to women.

Darlin’? Excuse me?

Had they somehow time traveled back to the 1960s?

“My name is Kinsley,” she said, doing her best to keep the bristle out of her voice. He may have been young and good-looking and a Fortune, but how dare he call her that?

“I know what your name is,” Christopher said.

“Then why did you call me darlin’?” She didn’t smile.

The man and woman who were with him looked a bit sheepish, perhaps a little embarrassed for him, before they ducked back inside his office. Actually, Christopher should’ve been embarrassed for himself. But did the guy do anything for himself?

The only reason he worked at the Foundation was because his uncle was James Marshall Fortune.

“Where is Betsy?” he asked

“Who is Betsy?” she returned.

“The new receptionist?” he answered with a tone better suited for talking to a small child.

Well, Mr. Man, two could play that game. “Nobody by the name of Betsy works here. Do you mean Beverly?”

Christopher shrugged. “Yes, the one who was here earlier.” He motioned to the desk where Kinsley was sitting. “Where is she?”

If Bev was smart, she’d handed in her resignation and left.

Kinsley blinked away the snotty thought. She hadn’t meant it. The Fortune Foundation was a fabulous place to work. Even though Christopher Fortune was full of himself, other members of the Fortune family had been very good to her. Not only did they pay her a decent salary to work as an outreach coordinator, a position she considered her life’s work, but also she would be forever grateful that they had taken a chance on her.

She’d come to them with little experience, having not yet earned her degree. She was working on it, but with a full-time job and going to school part-time at night, it was going to take her a while before she completed her coursework.

“I’m covering for Beverly while she’s on her break,” Kinsley said. “She should be back in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, is there something I can help you with?”

Christopher smiled and looked at her in that wolfish way he had that made her want to squirm. But she didn’t. No way. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

What was with this guy? Better question, what was with her? Kinsley had always subscribed to the Eleanor Roosevelt philosophy: nobody could make you feel anything unless you gave them permission. Actually, the quote was nobody could make you feel inferior, but this adaptation felt just as authentic.

“Yes, will you please call and make a lunch reservation for three at Red for 1:15?”

At first Kinsley thought he was kidding. But as she squinted at him, it became quite clear that he was indeed serious.

News flash! She had not been hired as Christopher Fortune’s personal secretary! And why did he want to eat at Red, of all places, today? She rarely went out to lunch, but today she had a 12:45 business lunch at the restaurant. She was meeting Meg Tyler, the Red Rock High School PTA president, to discuss the school’s Cornerstone Club, an extracurricular student leadership organization, and to talk about the role the kids could play in implementing an anti-bullying program.

For a split second, Kinsley thought about calling Meg and asking if they could change restaurants, but then quickly decided against it. She’d been looking forward to lunch at Red. Why should she deny herself her favorite Mexican place just because he was going to be there?

Yeah, what was up with that? Why was she still feeling so shy around him? He’d started working with the Foundation about two months ago. They hadn’t had much contact until recently, when Emmett Jamison had asked them to work together to establish a stronger online presence for the Foundation’s community outreach program.

Why did she allow him to make her feel twelve years old? Worse yet, why did she shrink every time Christopher walked into the room? She didn’t need his approval. So what if he was charismatic and good-looking? He skated through life on his looks and charm, much like her father had done when he was sober. At least she did her job better than he did.

Fighting the riptide of emotions that threatened to sweep her under, Kinsley stared unseeing at the notes she’d been writing before Christopher had come out of his office. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be drowned by the past. Her father had been dead for six years, and she certainly wasn’t twelve anymore. In all fairness, despite Christopher’s bravado, he really didn’t have the mean streak that had possessed her father when he had been drunk. That was when her dad had drummed it into her soul that she would never amount to anything. That she wouldn’t be good enough, strong enough, smart enough, pretty enough. No man in his right mind would ever want her.

But that was then and this was now. She was well on her way to proving him wrong. She had a good job, and she was making her own way in the world. No matter how the scarred memories of her bastard of a father tried to convince her that she would never be enough, she needed to muster the strength to exorcise his ghost and set herself free. She needed to quit projecting her father and his twisted ways onto Christopher, who, like so many other men, had a way of making her feel overlooked, dismissed.

She knew her value and what she was capable of. That was all that mattered.

Because she was sitting at the reception desk filling in for Bev, she swallowed her pride and placed the call to Red. A few minutes later, Christopher and his posse emerged from his office and made their way to the elevator. But Christopher hung back. “Thanks for taking care of my family and me, Kinsley.”

He looked her square in the eyes in that brazen way of his and flashed a smile. For a short, stupid moment part of her went soft and breathless.

“Mmm” was all she managed to say before she tore her gaze from his and he walked away to join his party.

Mmm. Not even a real word. Just an embarrassing monosyllabic grunt.

Kinsley sat at the reception desk waiting for Bev to return, pondering the shyness that always seemed to get the better of her whenever he was around.

Why?

Why did he have this effect on her?

It was because this job meant so much to her.

And maybe she found his good looks a little intimidating. But good grief.

So the guy was attractive with his perfectly chiseled features and those mile-wide broad shoulders. He had probably played football in college. One of those cocky jock types who had a harem clamoring to serve him. Not that Christopher Fortune’s personal life—past or present—was any of her business.

Kinsley blinked and mentally backed away from thoughts of her coworker. Instead, she reminded herself that she had done the right thing by taking the high road and making his darned lunch reservation rather than trying to make a point.

Looks didn’t matter. Not in her world, anyway. She had Christopher Fortune’s number. He was a handsome opportunist who was riding his family’s coattails. In the two months he’d been in the office he hadn’t done much to prove that he had high regard for the actual work they were trying to do at the Foundation.

Obviously, he didn’t get it. Guys like him never did.

But one thing she was going to make sure he understood in no uncertain terms—he’d better never call her darlin’ again or there would be hell to pay.


Chapter Two

“Oh, look at the flowers.” Angie sighed as Christopher guided her and Toby up the bougainvillea-lined path to Red.

“Just wait until you see the courtyard inside,” Christopher said with as much pride as if he were showing off his own home. “Red is built around it. There’s a fountain I think you’ll love.”

Angie stopped. “Red?”

“Yes, that’s the name of the restaurant.” Christopher gestured to the tile nameplate attached to the wall just outside the door, which he held open as he tried to usher them inside, but Angie stopped.

“Is this the same Red that’s owned by the Mendozas?” Angie asked.

“One and the same,” Christopher said.

“Wendy and Marcos Mendoza catered our wedding reception.” Angie sighed again as she looked around, taking it all in. “They have to be two of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” She turned to Toby. “I can’t believe we’re here. Chris, did you plan this?”

He wished he could take credit for it, but until now, he’d had no idea what had taken place at their wedding. He’d been so intent on staying away to avoid clouding their day with bad vibes that he hadn’t realized he didn’t know the first thing about the event other than the fact that his brother had taken himself a bride.

Regret knotted in his gut.

“The Mendozas catered your wedding?” Christopher asked.

“Yes, they did a beautiful job,” Angie said. “Everything was delicious. Oh, I hope that chicken mole they served at the reception is on the menu. I’ve been dreaming of it ever since.”

A twinge of disappointment wove itself around the regret. Christopher knew it was totally irrational, but he had brought them here because he’d wanted to introduce them to something new, something from his world that he had discovered. Yet by a strange twist of small-world fate, Red was old news to them.

“This place is so beautiful,” Angie cooed. “I could live here quite comfortably.”

“I’ll bet we could.” Toby beamed at his wife. His love for her was written all over his face. Watching the two of them so deeply in love blunted the edges of Christopher’s disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Toby had settled down. Of all of his siblings, Toby had been the one who was the most family oriented, especially after taking in the three Hemings kids. He was happy for his brother and Angie. He hoped things worked out and that they would be able to adopt the kids. But although Christopher looked forward to being an uncle, he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life than the one he was living now.

On their way to lunch Christopher had seized the opportunity to show off his new town and lifestyle. He’d loaded the newlyweds into his spankin’ new BMW and given them the fifty cent tour of downtown Red Rock.

Although there were certainly fancier restaurants in town, none spoke to Christopher quite the way Red did. Obviously the Mendoza appeal wasn’t restricted to Red Rock, since Toby and Angie seemed to love their food as much as he did.

Christopher held open the door as Angie and Toby stepped inside. He breathed in deeply as he followed them. It smelled damn good...of fresh corn tortillas, chilies and spices. There was something about the mix of old and new that appealed to him. The restaurant was housed in a converted hacienda that had once been owned by a Spanish family rumored to have been related to Mexican dignitary Antonio López de Santa Ana. Santa Ana was known as the Napoleon of the West. Christopher had recently learned that the current owners of the property, Jose and Maria Mendoza, had been fortunate to purchase the house and land at an affordable price before anyone realized its historical significance. The place couldn’t have been in better hands because the Mendozas had given the place its due reverence. That was especially true after the restaurant had been largely destroyed by an arson fire in 2009. Luckily, the family rebuilt and reopened after several months and had been going strong ever since.

Inside, the restaurant was decorated with antiques, paintings and memorabilia that dated all the way back to 1845 when President James Polk named Texas the twenty-eighth state of the Union.

In college, Christopher had complemented his business major with a history minor. So it was only natural that he liked the place for its history.

But the food...he loved the place for its food.

Red offered a mouthwatering selection of nouveau Mexican cuisine. The chef had a talent for taking traditional dishes such as huevos rancheros, the chicken mole that Angie was so crazy about and tamales, and sending them to new heights using fresh twists on old classics. The menu was bright and vibrant, familiar yet new and exciting.

Christopher had experienced nothing like it in Horseback Hollow. His mother, Jeanne Marie, was a great cook, but her repertoire was more of the meat and potatoes/comfort food variety. The food at Red was an exotic and surprising twist on traditional Mexican.

The chef was always coming up with new specials of the day and anytime Christopher was in, he asked him to taste test and share his opinion. Christopher loved being able to offer his input.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Fortune,” said the hostess. “We’re so glad you chose to join us for lunch today. Come right this way. Your favorite table is ready.”

The shapely brunette shot Christopher a sexy smile before she turned, hips swaying, as she led the three of them to an aged pine table next to a large window where they could enjoy the comfort of the air-conditioning, but still look out at the well-landscaped courtyard. As far as Christopher was concerned, it was the best seat in the house.

After they were settled, the hostess handed each of them a menu. “Enjoy your lunch, and please let me know if you need anything.”

She winked at Christopher before she turned to make her way back to the hostess station.

That was quite obvious of her, Christopher thought as he watched her walk away on her high-high heels with the grace and assurance of a tightrope walker. Her skirt was just short enough to draw the eye down to her firm, tanned calves. Now, that was a woman who knew how to dress. Unlike Kinsley, who hid herself under all that heavy tweed fabric that left her looking buttoned-up and shapeless. What a shame.

Suddenly, seeing Kinsley in a skirt and heels like that became his new fantasy.

“I see you come here for the good service,” Toby said, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Of course.” As Christopher turned back to his brother and Angie, a blonde caught his eye. She was was seated at a table to their left—and he couldn’t help noticing that she resembled Kinsley—

Wait, that is Kinsley.

She was dining with a woman he didn’t recognize. He had a view of Kinsley’s profile. If she just turned her head ever so slightly to the right she would see him, but she seemed engrossed in her conversation. Just as he was contemplating getting up and going over to say hello, her server brought their food.

She must have gotten here before him and ordered already. Besides, he, Toby and Angie had just sat down. They hadn’t even placed their drink order. He would wait.

When she’d made his reservation she hadn’t mentioned that she’d be dining here herself, even though she knew he was going to be here right around the same time. Maybe she was afraid that he would think she was angling for an invite to join them. Most of the women he knew wouldn’t have been shy about doing that. But Kinsley was different. Quiet, understated, more conservative.

She was a refreshing change from all the other women he’d met since he’d been in Red Rock. And there had been more than a few. Most of them were sassy and assertive, not at all afraid to reach out and let him know exactly what they wanted and how they wanted it. None of them was a keeper, either. They were all nice and fun, of course, but they left him wanting.

Kinsley, on the other hand, was a puzzle, and most definitely, he realized as he was sitting there, one he was interested in trying to solve.

Hmm. Why had he never thought about her like that before? He’d always thought she was pretty, and on occasion he’d tried to flirt with her, but until right now, he’d never really thought about what made her tick.

As if she felt him watching her, she glanced his way, and their gazes snared. He waved and she lifted a finger before turning her attention back to her lunch companion.

Despite this strange new Kinsley-awareness coursing through him, Christopher decided he should do the same and turned his focus to his brother and Angie. But pushing her from his mind was harder than he had expected.

The view of the courtyard helped. It was spectacular, with colorful Talavera tiles scattered here and there on the stucco walls, Mexican fan trees and more thriving bougainvillea that seemed to be blooming overtime today in a riot of hot pink, purple and gold. But even the crowning glory of the stately, large fountain in the center of the courtyard couldn’t keep Christopher’s gaze from wandering over Kinsley’s way.

“Too bad we couldn’t sit outside,” Toby said.

If the temperature wasn’t pushing ninety, Christopher would’ve insisted that they sit out by the fountain. Even though the outside tables were shaded by colorful umbrellas, the humidity was a killer. He didn’t want to sweat through his suit and then go back to work.

Not the image he wanted to portray, he thought, glancing at Kinsley.

“Is this okay?” he asked Toby and Angie. “We could move, but it’s a killer out there.”

“No, this is so lovely,” said Angie. “I want to stay right here.”

Before she could say more, Marcos Mendoza, the manager of Red, appeared at their table.

“Christopher Fortune, my man.” Marcos and Christopher shook hands. “It’s great to see you.”

“You, too,” said Christopher. “My brother Toby and his wife, Angie, are visiting. I couldn’t let them leave Red Rock without dining at Red.”

“Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds.” Marcos leaned in and kissed Angie on the cheek then shook Toby’s hand. He hooked a thumb in Christopher’s direction. “This guy is your brother?”

“Yep, I’ll claim him,” Toby said without a second’s hesitation. His brother’s conviction caused Christopher’s heart to squeeze ever so slightly, but he did a mental two-step away from the emotion and everything else it implied: the problems between him and Deke; the way he’d left home; the fact that he’d allowed all the ugliness to cause him to miss his own brother’s wedding.

“Christopher here is one of our best customers,” Marcos said. “I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together and figure out that the two of you were related. But different last names?”

“I go by Fortune. Toby goes by Fortune Jones.” Angie flinched. Christopher hadn’t meant to bite out the words. There was a beat of awkward silence before Toby changed the subject.

“Did you know that Marcos and Wendy are opening a new restaurant in Horseback Hollow?” he asked Christopher.

“Seriously?” Christopher said. He’d only been away a couple of months and he felt like a stranger.

“We’re opening The Hollows Cantina next month. In fact, my wife, Wendy, and I are in the process of packing up and moving there with our daughter, MaryAnne.” Marcos paused, a thoughtful look washing over his face. He turned to Christopher. “So if you and Toby are brothers, that means Liam Fortune Jones is your brother, too?”

Christopher nodded.

Marcos smiled. “I’ve hired his fiancée, Julia Tierney, to be the assistant manager at the restaurant.”

Christopher forced a smile.

“I had no idea that you were leaving Red Rock, or that Julia would be working for you,” Christopher said.

“I kept it on the down low until I was sure that everything would pan out,” said Marcos. “This is a great opportunity for my family, and having my own restaurant will be a dream come true. Really, we owe this happy decision to Julia. She is the one who talked us into opening a place in Horseback Hollow. Your future sister-in-law should work for the Horseback Hollow Chamber of Commerce—she can’t say enough good about the place.”

“Congratulations,” said Angie. “We will be sure to come in after the Cantina opens.”

“I have your contact information,” said Marcos, “and I will make sure that the two of you are invited to the grand opening. The Fortunes are like family, and family always sticks together.”

Toby shot Christopher a knowing look. “Yes, they do.”

“In fact, Fortune,” Marcos said to Christopher, “I’d better see you at the grand opening celebration, too. Especially now that I know that you’re a native son of Horseback Hollow.”

Christopher gave a wry smile. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around.”

Everybody laughed, unaware or ignoring the fact that Christopher wasn’t kidding.

“I need to get back to work,” Marcos said. “So please excuse me and enjoy your lunch.”

The men shook hands again and Marcos planted another kiss on Angie’s cheek before he moved on to greet the next table of guests.

“When are Julia and Liam getting married?” asked Christopher.

“That remains to be seen,” said Toby. “It’s a big step that he’s committed to one woman. Julia is good for him. She gets him, but doesn’t let him get away with squat. I think she’s about the only woman who could make an honest man out of him.”

Nodding, Christopher gave the menu a cursory glance. He wanted to hear the day’s specials, but it would take something extra appealing to sway him away from his favorite beef brisket enchiladas.

Toby looked up from his menu. “It looks like the marriage bug is infesting our family. I just heard that our cousin Amelia Chesterfield Fortune has gotten engaged to some British aristocrat.”

“That just seems so odd,” mused Angie. “She was dancing with Quinn Drummond at our wedding. It was the way they were looking at each other... The two of them seemed so happy. In fact, I would’ve wagered that something was blossoming between them. I just can’t imagine that there’s another man in the picture.”

“Yeah, but I heard the news from Mama and she usually gets things right.” Toby shook his head as if trying to reconcile the idea.

Their server was a woman named DeeDee. Christopher had seen her socially one time, but he hadn’t called her again. He hadn’t realized that she worked at Red. Within the first hour of their date, he’d realized DeeDee was after a whole lot more relationship than he was able to give. No sense in stringing her along, even if she was nice. The world was full of nice women and he needed to get to know a lot more of them before he settled down. He found his gaze sliding over to Kinsley’s table yet again. It looked as if they were finishing up with their meals. “Well, if it isn’t Christopher Fortune as I live and breathe,” DeeDee said, a teasing note in her voice. She twisted a strand of her long red hair around her finger as she talked. “It’s been so long since I heard from you, I thought maybe you’d fallen off the face of the earth or maybe you moved to some exotic, faraway land.”

Christopher laughed, keeping things light. “It’s good to see you, DeeDee. How long have you been working here?”

“It’s only my second day.”

“Which explains why I’ve never seen you here,” said Christopher.

After a little more playful banter, DeeDee flipped her hair off her shoulder with a swift swipe of her hand and took their drink orders. Next, she described the day’s specials, which didn’t tempt Christopher’s taste buds away from his usual order. After she left to get their drinks, Christopher recommended some of his favorites from the menu to Toby and Angie.

A few minutes later DeeDee returned with a bottle of champagne and three flutes. “This is for the newlyweds, compliments of Mr. Mendoza and the staff at Red.”

“Oh, my goodness,” said Angie. “Champagne in the middle of the day. How decadent. And how absolutely lovely. Thank you.”

“Well, the way I see it,” said Toby, “I’m only getting married once, and it’s an occasion to celebrate. Right, little brother?”

Toby didn’t wait for Christopher to answer. He put his arm around his bride and leaned in, placing a sound kiss on Angie’s lips. If DeeDee hadn’t been standing there, Christopher might have joked and told them to get a room. But really, it was nice to see Toby and Angie so happy.

“So this is your brother and sister-in-law?” asked DeeDee after she popped the cork and filled the glasses with the bubbly.

Christopher didn’t want to be rude, but he didn’t want to get too personal. “Yes,” he said. “They’re visiting, but I’m on my lunch hour so we should place our orders now.”

“Of course,” said DeeDee, snapping into professional mode. She wrote down their selections and headed toward the kitchen.

After she left, Christopher said, “I just can’t get over the fact that you’re married. But it suits you. It really does.”

Toby gave Angie a little squeeze.

“Where do the adoption proceedings stand?” Christopher asked. Seven months ago, Toby had taken in the Hemings children: eleven-year-old Brian, eight-year-old Justin and seven-year-old Kylie. The kids had had nowhere to turn and faced possible separation when their aunt was ordered into rehab for a drinking problem and child neglect. Both Christopher and Toby had known the kids from the Vicker’s Corners YMCA where they had worked as coaches. Most people would’ve run from that kind of responsibility—Christopher knew he certainly couldn’t have handled it—but Toby hadn’t thought twice before agreeing to take them in.

Unfortunately, the kids’ aunt, who obviously didn’t have the children’s best interests at heart, had decided to try and take the kids from Toby and send them into another unstable situation in California. Her reasoning was the kids should be with relatives. Never mind that the relative she’d chosen was out of work and on parole.

That’s all it took for Toby to decide he needed to legally adopt the children.

“Everything is still pending,” said Toby. “Frankly, it’s taking so long I’m starting to get worried.”

“I just don’t understand what the holdup is,” said Angie. “They not only have a loving home with us, but they also have become part of the family. They call Jeanne Marie and Deke Grandma and Grandpa. They’re calling your sisters and brothers Aunt and Uncle. How anyone could think that uprooting these poor kids is what’s best for them is beyond me. It breaks my heart.”

Toby caressed Angie’s shoulder. “We are going to do everything in our power to make sure they stay with us.”

“What can I do to help?” asked Christopher.

Toby shrugged. “At this point I don’t know what else anyone could do.”

“The Fortune name carries a lot of clout,” said Christopher. “Maybe we can use its influence to get things going in the right direction.”

Toby peered at him. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Christopher gave a one-shoulder shrug as he rubbed the fingers of his left hand together in the international gesture for money. “Money talks, bro.”

Toby frowned and shook his head. “Please don’t even suggest anything like that. I don’t want to be accused of doing anything unethical. That might hurt the situation more than it helps.”

“Nonsense,” said Christopher. “I think you’re being very shortsighted if you don’t take full advantage of your birthright.”

Christopher saw Toby take in a slow deep breath, as he always did when faced with conflict. It was as if he were framing his response so that he didn’t lose his cool.

“I appreciate your concern, Chris,” said Toby evenly. “But the caseworker told me she’s worried that the Fortunes themselves may be part of the problem. Since the Fortunes invaded Horseback Hollow so many strange things have happened. The authorities still think Orlando Mendoza’s accident might have been directed at the family.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Christopher. “Why would anyone want to hurt the Fortunes? I mean, look at me. I’m living proof. Since I changed my name nothing bad has happened to me.”

Christopher turned his palms up to punctuate his point.

“That is, if you don’t count your running away from home and shunning your entire family as something bad.”

Toby cocked an eyebrow at Christopher.

Christopher locked gazes with his brother and crossed his arms.

“Look, I know this Fortune Foundation gig is still new and exciting to you,” said Toby, “so don’t take this wrong. But someday you’re going to learn that some things are more important than money.”

Christopher glanced over at Kinsley, but she and her friend were gone. His gaze swept the restaurant, but she was nowhere to be seen. How had he not seen her leave?

He picked up his champagne glass and knocked back the contents.

“Come on, Chris,” said Toby. “When are you coming home? No one has seen you in months. They certainly have no idea that you’ve completely disowned Daddy’s name.”

Toby was usually the only one who could see Christopher’s side in times when he and Deke disagreed, which was more often than not. Awkward silence hung in the air and, for once, Christopher didn’t know how to fill it. He didn’t want to fight with Toby, but he wasn’t going back to Horseback Hollow. His life was here now, and he would prefer to keep his old and new lives separate. The contrast between the Joneses and the Fortunes was stark. Christopher couldn’t take the chance of losing the respect he’d earned at the Foundation.

“Man up, Chris,” Toby urged. “Take the high road and be the one who extends the olive branch to Deke.”

“Yeah, well that high road has two lanes. Deke can bring that olive branch to me easier than I can bring it to him. I’m a little too busy right now to coddle a grown man.”

Toby made a tsk sound. “An old man. Don’t wait too long. You may be sorry if you do.”

“Don’t pull that guilt trip crap on me,” said Christopher. “Just don’t. But please do tell me why it’s okay for Deke to resent me for making an honest living in a career I love. For making my own way. For not having dirt under my fingernails. No offense to you, but why should I have to grovel to him because the ranch life is not the kind of life I want? Until Deke understands that, I don’t think we’re going to meet anywhere, much less with an olive branch.”

Truth be told, he would rather be known as James Marshall Fortune’s nephew than as the son of Deke Jones, crusty old cattle rancher. Christopher hoped that Toby wouldn’t make him come out and say that.

Toby stared at Christopher, looking thin-lipped and angry.

“So you’ve got the fancy suits, the brand-new car and a parade of women who think you’re a big shot,” said Toby, virtually rolling his eyes at what he obviously perceived as self-importance. “Looks like you’ve finally achieved your dream, haven’t you?”

“You shouldn’t knock it since you’ve never tried it,” said Christopher. “No offense to you, Angie. I’m just saying.”

Toby took his wife’s hand and laced his fingers through hers. “No loss. Believe me, I wouldn’t trade my life for yours. I couldn’t possibly be any happier than I am with Angie and the kids. On that note, I think we’d better start heading toward home.”

Toby pulled out his wallet and tossed a crisp $100 bill onto the table in payment for the food they hadn’t managed to stay long enough to have delivered to their table. It was probably one of the ten that Christopher had given him as a wedding gift.

Christopher slid the bill back toward his brother. “Here, Toby. I’ve got this.”

Toby stood. “No, you don’t. If you got this, you would stop acting like such a pretentious jackass and come home and make amends with Dad. You may have given up on us, Chris, but we’ll never give up on you. Take care of yourself and call me when you’re ready to talk.”


Chapter Three

With his long lunches and daily putting practice, was it any wonder Christopher Fortune didn’t get much done? Kinsley mused after fielding a call from Emmett Jamison, the head of the Foundation. Even so, she’d covered for Christopher when Mr. Jamison had asked if she’d seen him. She’d explained that he’d taken a late lunch with family visiting from out of town. She didn’t mention that he’d been gone nearly two-and-a-half hours.

She may not have agreed with the way Christopher conducted himself, but she wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. That would just make her look bad in the eyes of Mr. Jamison.

She wanted him to see her as a problem solver, not the type of person who pointed fingers and ratted people out. Besides, with the Fortunes, blood was definitely thicker than water. If she wasn’t careful the situation might get turned around and come back to bite her. She was sure if it came down to her or Christopher Fortune, Emmett Jamison would side with the man whose last name was on his paycheck.

Kinsley drummed her fingers on the desk. The Fortunes were all about family. She knew Mr. Jamison would excuse him for that. She couldn’t deny that she envied Christopher and his huge support system. What was it like to come from such a large, protective family that would circle the wagons at a moment’s notice?

Kinsley had no idea. Growing up the only child of an alcoholic father and a mother who couldn’t stand up for herself didn’t give her much experience to draw from.

She and her mother only had each other to intervene when her father was on a drunken bender. When they did stand up to him, there was always hell to pay.

Her grandmother—her mom’s mom—had passed away when Kinsley was about eight, but Grandma hadn’t had the wherewithal to extract her daughter from what Kinsley would later look back on and realize was a situation that had robbed her mother of her life.

But wasn’t hindsight always perfect?

From the moment Kinsley was old enough to realize she could take care of herself, she vowed she would never personally depend on a man. For that matter, she preferred to not depend on anyone, because didn’t people always let you down?

She’d only had two boyfriends, and both of them had proven that to be true. They were hard lessons, but she’d learned. And she prided herself on not repeating the same mistakes.

Family ranks or not, Emmett had said he was concerned because he had received a call from a woman named Judy Davis who was perplexed because she’d emailed the community relations office three times about a donation she wanted to make and still hadn’t heard back. She was beginning to think the Foundation didn’t want her money.

Kinsley made an excuse that there had been technical difficulties with the email account and had assured Mr. Jamison that she and Christopher would make sure everything was working as it should as soon as he got back...which should be any minute.

Technically, Christopher was being difficult. Right? Did that count as technical difficulties? She hoped so. Because it was all she had.

She would cover for Christopher this time, but they were definitely going to have a little heart to heart.

She wrote down Judy Davis’s information and assured Mr. Jamison that they would follow up with her today and make sure she knew how much her donation was needed and appreciated.

Kinsley’s cheeks burned.

She didn’t appreciate being left holding the bag for matters like this, especially when it was something Christopher had insisted on handling. The new Foundation Community Relations email address had been her idea, but they had decided to split the work: as she went out into the community, Kinsley would get the word out about the new way to contact the Foundation; as vice president of community relations, Christopher had insisted on being the one to respond to the emails.

Thank goodness Kinsley had insisted on knowing the password. Christopher had agreed that it was a good idea for more than one person to have access to the account, but he had assured her that he would check it regularly. She had taken him at his word. Kinsley mentally kicked herself for trusting so blindly. People might have been reaching out for help or there could be more potential funding for the Foundation in these unread messages. Yet Christopher was too busy perfecting his putt...and she’d covered for him.

Feeling like a fool, Kinsley gritted her teeth as she typed in the URL to bring up the login page so she could sign into the account.

As a Fortune, Christopher was set for life. Unlike the other family members who worked at the Foundation, he didn’t seem grounded in the realities of what mere mortals had to face in the world.

No, Christopher Fortune was fat, spoiled and smug—

Well, maybe not fat. Kinsley hated herself for it, but somehow her gaze always managed to find its way to Christopher’s abs. The way his expensive, tailored dress shirts tapered in at his trim waist, she could plainly see that the guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body.

No, he was all broad shoulders and six-pack abs—or at least she imagined he was sporting a six-pack under his buttoned up exterior. Who wouldn’t be if they had time to work out daily? Actually, it didn’t matter what Christopher Fortune was packing under his crisp cotton shirt. Mr. Vice President was still spoiled and smug. And completely irresponsible when it came to doing his job.

When the login page came up, she was relieved to see that it hadn’t been that long since Christopher had checked the account. In fact, it had only been two days. She scrolled through the ten emails in search of Judy Davis’s three messages. When she found them, she realized the three emails had arrived within a span of 36 hours.

Mr. Jamison had been under the impression that she’d been waiting a long time to hear back. Though it really hadn’t been an excessively long time since Christopher had checked the account, it did need to be monitored regularly. Several times a day, in fact, to keep something like this from happening.

If that was too much for Christopher to handle, he needed to hand it over to someone who could keep a closer eye on it, Kinsley thought as she started to click on one of the unopened message.

But then she stopped. Instead, she had a better idea.

She took a screenshot of the emails that still needed attention and printed it out. Then she took a fluorescent yellow highlighter and marked each one that he needed to check.

She’d already covered for him. If she did his work for him, too, she would simply be fostering his habit of letting someone else pick up the pieces.

The thought took her back to another place and time that made her unspeakably sad. Maybe if she’d intervened a little more on behalf of her mother things would’ve turned out differently. She stared at the computer screen as the memory threatened to cut into her heart. But she shrugged off the feelings before they could take root. What had happened to her mother was entirely different from what was happening now. No amount of wishing or dwelling would change the way things had played out. That’s why Kinsley’s job at the Foundation was so important. She couldn’t change the past, but maybe, if she did her job well, she could make a difference for someone else.

Christopher Fortune didn’t need saving. He needed a good swift kick in the rear.

Kinsley had her own workload to worry about. The last thing she needed was to try and reform Mr. Silver Spoon. He was a big boy; he could take care of himself. He needed to start pulling his load. She fully intended to tell him as much when he got back.

Well...in so many words.

She wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize her job. But she could still stand up for herself.

This would be a good time to make sure Christopher knew that, although she didn’t mind helping him out with things like checking the Foundation’s Community Relations email account and making his lunch reservations, she wasn’t his secretary. She didn’t intend to mince words about that.

She paper clipped Judy Davis’s contact information on top of the highlighted list of unanswered emails and set the papers on the corner of her desk.

She knew it wasn’t her place to call him out; she intended to do it tactfully. She’d make him think it was all his idea. But yes. They were going to have a little reality check when he got back. She glanced at the clock on her cell phone—was he even coming back to the office today?

She picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi, Bev, would you please let me know when Mr. Fortune gets back into the office? I want to schedule a meeting with him.”

“Speak of the devil,” Bev whispered. “He just walked in from lunch. Want me to see if he’s available?”

“No, that’s okay,” Kinsley said. “I’ll just walk down the hall and stick my head in his office.”

* * *

Christopher swiveled his office chair so that it faced the window. He leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him and resting his hands on his middle.

The more he thought about what had happened at lunch, the more he was sure Deke had sent Toby to do his bidding. It made him so angry he wanted to wrap his putter around the trunk of the magnolia tree out in front of the building.

It could’ve been a good visit with his brother. A chance to get to know his new sister-in-law a little better. But Deke had to insert himself, even if it was virtually, and mess things up.

His father was so good at messing things up.

But then Christopher had to wonder if his brother would’ve come to Red Rock if it hadn’t been to prod him to go home. Well, it hadn’t done any good. If anything it had given him more incentive to stay away. The Joneses couldn’t stand anything that varied from their idea of normal. But Christopher had news for them all—this was his new normal.

He looked up at the sound of a knock on his door. He straightened up in his chair and turned back to his desk, moving the mouse to wake up his computer screen.

“Come in,” he said.

He was delighted when he saw Kinsley standing in the threshold. Suddenly the afternoon was looking a lot brighter.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked.

“For you, I would clear my schedule.”

She rolled her eyes. Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he would’ve been surprised if he’d gotten a more enthused reaction.

“I’m just kidding,” he said. Actually, he wasn’t. “Come in. I’m not the big bad wolf. How was your lunch?”

She shut the door and walked over to stand in front of his desk. “It was fine.”

“I saw you at Red,” he said. “I was going to come over and say hello, but by the time we ordered you were gone.”

“I only had an hour for lunch. I had to get back.”

Since he’d seen her at the restaurant she’d pulled her hair back away from her face. And what a face it was; she had a perfect complexion that didn’t require much makeup. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if she was wearing any makeup. His mind wandered for a moment, imagining the curves that hid beneath the conservative clothes she wore. He smiled at the thought. But then he realized she wasn’t smiling at him.

God, if he didn’t know better, he might be afraid she’d read his mind.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Since you asked,” she said, “actually, yes, there is something wrong.”

She held out a piece of paper. He reached across the desk and took it from her.

“What’s this?”

She was standing there with her arms crossed—defensive body language. Her sensible blue blouse was buttoned all the way up to the top and was tucked into a plain lighter blue skirt that didn’t show nearly enough leg. Legs, he thought, that would look killer in a pair of shiny black stilettos, ones like the hostess at Red had worn, rather than those low-heeled church lady shoes that looked like something out of his mama’s closet.

“It’s a message from a woman who has been trying to get a hold of you to make a donation to the Foundation,” she said.

Christopher read the name and number scrawled on the paper. Judy Davis? He didn’t know a Judy Davis.

“Who is she and when did she call?”

Kinsley crossed one ankle over the other, keeping her arms firmly across her middle. Good grief. If she twisted herself any tighter she was going to turn herself inside out.

“After she emailed you three times, unsuccessfully, she called Mr. Jamison to voice her displeasure. He called me while you were at lunch, none too pleased.”

What the hell?

Christopher lifted up the paper with the message and saw a photocopy of what looked like a list of emails. Someone had taken a highlighter to it.

“Did Emmett do this?” he asked, gesturing at her with the paper.

Her cheeks flushed the slightest hue of pink, which made her look even prettier, if that was possible.

She cleared her throat. “No, I did. Christopher, you haven’t checked the community relations email account in two days. She emailed us three times—”

“Three times over the course of what, 48 hours?” he asked looking at the paper to check the time the emails came through.

“Actually, it’s closer to 36 hours,” she said. “I know she was a little impatient, but she wants to give us money and nobody contacted her in a reasonable amount of time. I can understand why she was a little upset.”

Christopher watched Kinsley as she stood there, obviously irritated with him. The funny thing was, usually when people nagged him it made him mad, but he found her completely disarming. His gaze dropped to her full bottom lip.

He’d be willing to wager that those lips would taste better than that expensive champagne that Marcos had given them at lunch, and he was getting a little hot and bothered at the realization that he hadn’t yet had a taste of Kinsley’s lips.

He smiled as he added that task to his mental to-do list.

“I’ll be happy to call her now,” Christopher said, offering his best smile.

“That’s a good idea. The sooner the better. I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but you really should check that email account several times a day.”

“I checked it three days in a row and there was absolutely no email,” he said. “I’ve been busy. I know this is your brainchild, but people aren’t exactly lining up to leave us messages.”

Her brows knit. “Christopher, do you see that piece of paper I gave you? There are ten unanswered messages on there. Well, seven if you don’t count the three from Judy Davis.”

Her face was so expressive. Those lips were so full. It was mesmerizing to watch her mouth as she talked. He realized he was sitting there grinning stupidly as she reprimanded him. Still, he wanted to laugh. Not at her, but at the situation—at the way the woman had somehow gotten under his skin, but in a good way. A sexy way. A way that made him want to walk over and unbutton the top button of her blouse to loosen her up a bit. Hell, he didn’t want to stop there—

“Are you listening to me?” she asked.

“Every single word.” He pursed his lips to remove the grin from his face.

Now her hands were on her hips. The stance drew her blouse tight across her breasts. The fabric between the middle buttons gaped a little bit. He forced his eyes back to her face. And she wasn’t smiling.

Uh-oh. Busted.

“Then would you please tell me what I just said to you?” she said.

“You were talking about the messages from Susan Davis.”

“Judy,” she enunciated. “It’s Judy Davis. For goodness’ sake don’t make matters worse by calling her the wrong name.”

He looked down at the papers he was still holding in his hand. He shuffled the two sheets and saw that yes, indeed, the message said Judy Davis.

He smiled to mask his embarrassment. He never had been good with names. “I know her name is Judy. Says so right here.” He waved the paper at her. “I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”

She rolled her eyes again.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” he asked, eager to hear what she would say. Of course, he was daring her, and he got exactly the reaction he was hoping for.

She blanched. Her eyes flew open wide, and a look of innocence overtook her formerly contemptuous expression.

“I have no idea why you would say that,” she said. “You’re my coworker and I respect you.”

Respect, huh?

But then she surprised him.

“And while we’re on the topic of respect,” she said, “I need to make sure that we understand each other in a couple of areas.”

“Of course,” he said. He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. “Kinsley, please sit down.”

She shook her head. “No, I’d rather stand, thank you.”

Christopher shrugged. “Okay, suit yourself, but if you’re going to stand I guess that means I will, too.”

He stood and the slightly panicked and perplexed look clouded her face again. “You don’t have to do that. Really, you don’t.”

“Of course I do. It makes me uncomfortable to have you towering over me.”

“What? You’re not going to tell me that you’re one of those people who believes his head should always be higher than the heads of his subordinates?”

What was this? A dry sense of humor?

He walked around to the other side of the desk, careful to respect her personal space.

“No, but that’s not a bad theory.”

This time she looked at him as if he had just grown another head on his shoulder.

“You do know I’m kidding, right?”

“I wasn’t sure.”

“Kinsley. We’ve been working together for what—two months now? I would hope that you would know me better than that by now. You’re great at what you do. But you need to loosen up just a little bit. This isn’t brain surgery.”

“It may not be brain surgery, but I take what I do seriously and I would like for you to take me seriously.”

What?

Was that what she thought? That he didn’t take her seriously? She was one of the most competent, capable people he’d ever worked with. He liked her poise, he liked the way she related to their clients and of course, he loved the way she looked. But maybe that was the problem....

The Fortune mystique didn’t seem to work on this woman who was all business, all the time.

Why not?

Why was she immune when most of the women in Red Rock practically bowed down when a Fortune entered the room?

He liked that about her.

All she wanted was to be taken seriously. He understood. That’s all he’d wanted from Deke. To be respected for what he did and how he did it.

“Point taken,” he said.

She took a deep breath, held it for a moment and then silently released it. He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she did so.

“There’s one more thing,” she said.

Christopher gestured with both hands. “Please. Anything. You can talk to me.”

“First—”

“I thought you said there was only one more thing?”

She gave him that look again, as if she were saying really?

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I do respect you, Kinsley. But could you please unfurrow your brow for just a moment? Unfurrow your brow and smile. Will you do that for me?”

She stood there for a moment looking at him as if she still wasn’t sure whether or not he was joking. He held his ground, looking at her expectantly. Finally, she forced a smile. It was the most pathetic and amusing attempt at one he’d ever seen.

“I mean a real smile.”

She put her palms in the air, finally uncrossing her arms. “I don’t understand what you want from me. But I’m going to tell you what I expect from you—I’m not your Girl Friday. I don’t mind helping you, but I’m not your secretary. Secretaries make lunch reservations. Outreach coordinators, which is what I was hired to do for the Foundation, will check the email account if it’s something you don’t want to do. But you have to communicate with me, Christopher. I’m the one who had to deal with Mr. Jamison when he called wondering why we had dropped the ball. I told him we were experiencing technical difficulties with the new email account. But I don’t want to lie, and I can’t continue to cover for you.”

Her voice was serious but surprisingly not accusatory. What amazed him even more was his reaction to what she was saying. He simply nodded and said, “You’re right. We do need to communicate better. If you have suggestions on how we could do that, I’m happy to listen to what you have to say.”

“Maybe we could have regular meetings and discuss where we’re going with new venture...er, the Foundation’s community relations and community outreach efforts?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea,” he said, trying not to acknowledge the voice inside his head detailing exactly how he would like to communicate with Kinsley.

The woman had asked for respect. He understood that and revered her even more for telling him that was important to her.

“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. Because you’re a very important part of this team and I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable.”

There it was. An almost imperceptible shift in her demeanor, but he saw it. She had re-crossed her arms and was still standing there with her closed-off posture, but her brow was slightly less furrowed and her shoulders were somewhat more relaxed.

“I appreciate that,” she said.

He resisted the urge to tell her that he knew there was a lot more to Kinsley Aaron than a pretty face and a potentially great pair of legs. There was something guarded and a little troubled about her and he wanted to know who or what had made her that way because she was way too young and pretty to be that uptight.

He silently vowed that he was going to find out. He was going to be the one to teach Kinsley Aaron how to loosen up.


Chapter Four

Two days later, Kinsley got a call from Emmett Jamison’s assistant, Valerie, asking her to meet with Mr. Jamison at two o’clock. Apprehension knotted in her stomach.

Christopher had called Judy Davis right after their discussion. Kinsley had followed up and made sure that Christopher had placed the call. Christopher could be all wit and charm, so Kinsley had been certain that he would win the woman over. She hadn’t given it a second thought.

Until now.

Now, Kinsley was nervous that maybe Judy Davis had called back with more complaints and, once again, she would take the fall. Well, she wasn’t going to lie and she wouldn’t go down without a fight. As she made her way to Mr. Jamison’s office, she racked her brain for the words to defend herself if he was calling her in to level the boom.

She loved this job. She was good at it. She’d made great strides with the community outreach program. Really, her work should speak for itself.

When her heartbeat kicked into an irrational staccato, she took a deep breath and reminded herself not to jump to conclusions. Just because Mr. Jamison has never called her to his office before in the year and a half she’d worked there didn’t mean the first visit spelled doom.

Valerie looked up and smiled at Kinsley as she approached.

“Hi, Kinsley,” she said. “Have a seat. I’ll let Mr. Jamison know you’re here.”

Kinsley had no more than settled herself on the edge of the maroon wingback chair when Valerie hung up the phone and said, “He said to come right in. He’s ready to see you.”

Kinsley dug deep to offer her most self-assured smile. “Thank you.”

When she opened the door, Christopher was the first person she saw. What was he doing here?

He wasn’t her boss. Yet he was her superior if you went strictly by job title. When he had started at the Foundation, his place in the chain of command hadn’t been officially defined.

But here he was, sitting on the sofa in Emmett Jamison’s office. Mr. Jamison occupied the chair across from Christopher. Notes of their laughter still hung in the air. They stood up and smiled at Kinsley as she walked in.

She hoped the convivial air was a good sign. Usually, people didn’t sit and joke when they were planning on letting an employee go. She was eager to know what this was all about.

“Hello, Kinsley,” said Mr. Jamison. “Thanks for taking time out of your day to meet with us.”

That was a good sign.

“No problem at all,” she said.

He gestured to the empty space on the couch next to Christopher. For a moment Kinsley silently debated whether she should sit in the chair next to her boss, but she walked over and took the seat he’d indicated.

After their talk the other day, Kinsley had forgiven the flirtation. Maybe it was because despite how incredibly maddening—and flirty—the guy could be, he seemed to have taken seriously her requests to be treated professionally. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

She felt him watching her as she settled herself next to him. Okay, so maybe the old dog hadn’t completely changed his ways. Or maybe she just needed to relax and own up to the fact that maybe she was the one with the problem. That maybe she found Christopher just a little bit more attractive than she would like to admit. There. She’d said it. And immediately blinked away the thought, wondering where it had come from.

“I want to thank both of you for the way you handled Judy Davis,” said Emmett. “She called back to say she was delighted with the response she received. I think you charmed her, Christopher.”

No doubt.

“But, Kinsley,” said Emmett, “Christopher tells me you’re the one who alerted him to the fact that there was a problem, allowing him to correct the situation. That’s great teamwork. It started me thinking that the two of you should collaborate on another community relations project.”

Christopher had admitted that there had been a problem?

Kinsley checked herself to ensure that her expression didn’t expose her surprise.

So he’d fessed up... Hmm... Maybe I need to give him more credit.

“Do you have something in mind?” Christopher asked.

“As a matter of fact I do,” said Emmett. “Jed Cramer, principal over at Red Rock High School, told me that you, Kinsley, had lunch with his Cornerstone Club president the other day. He was telling me that there has been an increase in bullying among the students, and he’s very concerned. He believes the Foundation can help since we’ve been successful in reaching teens through our community outreach program. Kinsley, you’re really doing a wonderful job with that. I think this is a project that the two of you could really sink your teeth into. Together you could do some real good and put a stop to this bullying problem.”

Emmett’s eyes darted back and forth between Christopher and Kinsley. “Does this sound like something you would like to handle?”

Kinsley and Christopher both looked at each other and started to speak at the same time. Then they stopped talking and started again at the exact same time.

Finally, Christopher smiled and gestured to Kinsley. “You go first.”

She felt her stomach flutter a little, but she ignored it and simply said, “Thank you. Meg was telling me this is an unfortunate reality that’s happening more and more these days. The challenge is getting the kids to speak up—not only the ones who are being bullied, but the ones who witness the bullying. A lot is going on here—self-esteem issues, cliques and a general feeling of wanting—no, needing—to be accepted.”

Christopher was nodding his head. Kinsley paused to let him put in his two cents, but he remained quiet. So she continued.

“To reach the kids, we have to not only go where they are, but we also have to reach them on a more personal level. What would you think about the Foundation having a booth at the annual Red Rock Spring Fling?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” said Emmett.

“I agree,” said Christopher. “But we will have to move fast because it’s happening toward the end of the month. How about if I check into the logistics of securing the booth?”

“That sounds like a plan,” said Emmett. “The two of you can work together to plan the approach you’ll take and the material you’ll use. Here’s more good news. We have about $20,000 in the unspecified reserve account. We had a board meeting yesterday and the board of directors approved your using some of that money to implement an anti-bullying program. How about if we make the Spring Fling our target launch date? Does that sound doable?”




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