Читать книгу A Fortunes Of Texas Christmas - Helen Lacey - Страница 10

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.”