Fortune's Perfect Valentine

by Stella Bagwell

  *

  The next morning, Vivian was staring at her computer screen, trying to focus on the work she should’ve finished yesterday, when a folded newspaper was suddenly thrust in front of her face. The hand holding it was wearing an onyx ring, and the shock that Wes Robinson had bothered to come to her work cubicle had her whirling the chair around to face him.

  “What—is something wrong?” she practically sputtered.

  A smug expression curved one corner of his mouth, and she instantly wondered if his first date had received a kiss from those same privileged lips.

  “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  He handed her a folded copy of the Texan Gazette. “Page twenty-four in the social section.”

  Vivian quickly fumbled through the pages. When she reached the right page and spotted a picture of herself and Paul, her mouth fell open.

  “That’s me!” she said with a shocked gasp. “We were leaving the restaurant. I had no idea anyone was watching us. This is creepy!”

  “Creepy or not, it happened. And why the surprise? After our national exposure, you should have known the local media would pick up on our venture.”

  “I didn’t say anything during that interview about personally using the app!” she protested. “You did!”

  His expression turned sly. “The media has a way of finding out these things.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You told them!”

  He chuckled, and it dawned on Vivian that he was enjoying this whole charade. The idea was even more surprising than finding a photo of herself in an Austin newspaper.

  “Why should I be the only one hounded by the press?” He tapped a finger on another photo at the top of the page. “Apparently you didn’t notice this one.”

  Her gaze followed the direction of his finger, and as she studied the image, she felt herself going hot and then cold.

  “Wes Robinson, son of tech mogul Gerald Robinson, was spotted at the Capital Arms Restaurant last evening with a computer-inspired date.”

  After reading the caption beneath the photo, Vivian glanced up at Wes. “This was your date?”

  “That’s Julia,” he said smugly. “I have to admit, Vivian, so far your app seems to understand exactly what I want in a woman.”

  Vivian turned her attention back to the photo. Wes’s date could easily pose for the cover of a fashion magazine. And the alluring expression she was casting at Wes must have sent him into a dreamy stupor. Vivian had never seen her boss looking so dazed.

  Vivian should have been jumping for joy that the app had worked for him, at least. Instead, she felt almost queasy. As if she’d taken a dose of painkillers on an empty stomach. “So you two communicated well?”

  “Absolutely. She was smart, funny, interesting—I’m beginning to wonder if I should just stop right now and call her the winner.”

  The triumphant note in his voice irked her to no end. “Really? One date is all you need to decide she’s your perfect mate?”

  “I only said I was wondering, not quitting. Besides, if my next dates turn out to be as charming as Julia, why should I stop such a fun quest?”

  He’d had fun and she’d gone home with a headache. There was nothing fair about this, Vivian thought miserably.

  “Good for you,” she retorted. “But frankly, this image of your date has me doubting your honesty.”

  His eyes narrowed, and Vivian noticed they were abnormally bloodshot this morning, as though he’d downed too much alcohol or had a very late night. Both a product of blonde Julia, she figured.

  “What are you talking about? I’m not going to lie about my dates.” He pointed to the newspaper image. “You can see for yourself that she’s an attractive woman. I could hardly make that up.”

  “I’m not doubting that you had a good time on your date last night. I’m just wondering if you answered the questions on My Perfect Match truthfully. What did you put down as your occupation? That you run a modeling agency?”

  His short laugh was mocking. “What did you put down as your occupation? That you’re a scout for the NBA?”

  Disgusted now, she tossed the paper onto her desk. “Very funny. I should expect you to say something like that! You know, Mr. Robinson, not everyone is as flawless as you.”

  “So you didn’t mind breaking a vertebra in your neck to look up at him?”

  “For your information, I didn’t break a thing,” she said coolly.

  “So do you plan on seeing him again?”

  Not in a thousand years, Vivian silently answered. To Wes she said, “I don’t know who I’m going to date next. I’m going to let the app decide that for me.”

  A clever grin curved the corners of his lips. “Yes, maybe we’d better let the app do its work. That is what this is all about.”

  “Exactly.”

  He turned to leave, then pointed to the newspaper. “By the way, you can keep that for a souvenir. I expect it will be one of many. Oh, and don’t you think you should start calling me Wes? Now that we’re in a dating battle, so to speak, it sounds ridiculous for you to call me Mr. Robinson.”

  She couldn’t have been more shocked. In the past six years she’d worked for the guy, he’d never invited her to be personal with him. But then, they’d never worked on such a personal project together before.

  “You are my superior,” she reminded him.

  “Don’t let that stop you.”

  “All right, Wes.”

  He gave her a thumbs-up and left the cubicle.

  Relieved, Vivian slumped back in her chair and reached for the newspaper. For two cents, she’d push the thing into the paper shredder. The last thing she wanted was a reminder of her disastrous date. And as for Wes’s escapade last evening, she wasn’t going to waste one more second wondering if he’d spent his night in the arms of the beautiful blonde.

  *

  On Friday evening, Wes was standing at the elevator a few doors down from his office when he heard Ben’s voice call out to him.

  “Hey, Wes! Wait up.”

  Glancing down the corridor, he spotted his twin stride quickly toward him. The elevator doors chose that exact moment to open, but Wes ignored them and waited for his brother to join him.

  “Looking for me?” Wes asked.

  “I tried your cell earlier and Adelle wasn’t answering her phone. When you didn’t pick up your office phone, I was beginning to think you were sick.” He eyed the worn leather bomber jacket Wes was wearing this evening. “And you must be if you’re quitting work this early in the evening.”

  Wes punched the down button and the doors opened again. This time Wes stepped inside with Ben following close behind him.

  “Sorry about the cell phone. These past few days, I’ve had to silence the ringer. The constant sound was driving me nuts. But as to my health, I’m actually feeling great. Never better.”

  With no one else joining them in the elevator, Wes leaned forward to punch the number for the parking garage, and the car moved swiftly downward.

  “Hmm. Well, you should be feeling on top of the world,” Ben replied. “Marketing informs me the orders are pouring in for the new dating app. It appears all this publicity you’ve been doing is paying off. Good work, brother.”

  Wes eased back the cuff of his jacket to glance at his watch. He had less than fifteen minutes to meet his fourth app date at a nearby coffee shop. Normally, Wes didn’t cut his schedule so close, but he’d spent the past hour going over cost data for a new processor his department had developed. Since his father had requested the information delivered to him before quitting time, Wes had worked all day going over the numbers, making sure Gerald Robinson could find no gaps in the report. No. Wes wasn’t about to let the man find him making a mistake. Not in his work. Or his personal life.

  “I wouldn’t call it work,” Wes told his twin. “It’s dating.”

  Ben let out a low chuckle. “I honestly didn’t know you had it in you.”

  Wes darted him a sharp look. “Had what in
me?”

  “The ability to land all those good-looking women. How many have you gone out with so far? Three? Four? And from the pics I’ve seen in the papers, they’ve all looked pretty darn attractive.”

  “Hey, you’d better not let Ella hear you saying that,” Wes jokingly warned. “She might want to think twice about going through with next Saturday’s wedding.”

  Ben chuckled again. “Ella knows I only have eyes for her. And speaking of the wedding, that’s why I stopped by your office. I wanted to remind you about rehearsal. At the church tomorrow night at seven. So you might want to cross off your dating schedule for tomorrow evening. It might be a little awkward to bring a computer date to a wedding rehearsal.”

  Leave it to his brother to suggest Wes would do something that crass. True, he wasn’t the cool 007 that Ben was, but he knew where and when to show up with a lady on his arm.

  Deliberately ignoring Ben’s suggestion, Wes asked, “I assume we’re having dinner afterward?”

  “At the River Plaza.”

  One of the ritziest hotels in town, Wes thought. When Ben had said he wanted to give Ella everything, he’d obviously meant it.

  “Will Dad be there?”

  After a long pause, Wes glanced over at Ben. As their gazes locked, Wes knew they were both thinking of their childhood days and how their father had rarely been around for any family event. Instead of looking to their wandering father for male guidance and affection, the twins had always relied on each other. And in many ways that hadn’t changed.

  Ben exhaled a long breath and wiped a hand over his face. “No. He’s leaving tomorrow afternoon for a convention in Chicago. A three-day affair.”

  Emphasis on affair, Wes wanted to say. Typical Gerald Robinson, business and personal pleasure before family. But he kept the snide remark to himself. This was an important time in Ben’s life. His brother didn’t need to be reminded of their father’s shortcomings.

  “Sorry, Ben.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, the old man has promised to be at the wedding. And considering how he feels about this Fortune family search I’ve undertaken, I’m surprised he’s agreed to attend. He’s not a bit happy with me, you know.”

  “Well, not everyone in the Robinson family is happy with this endeavor of yours. But that doesn’t mean we’ve stopped loving you.”

  The elevator came to a halt, and they stepped onto the dimly lit concrete floor of the parking garage. Wes gestured in the direction of his car. “My car is over there. Was there anything else on your mind? I’m supposed to meet the lady in fifteen minutes and need to get going.”

  “So you really are headed out on a date,” Ben stated the obvious.

  “That’s right. She’s driving up from San Antonio.”

  “There aren’t enough women in Austin for you?”

  Wes smirked. “The app is doing the choosing. Not me.”

  “Ah yes, the app,” Ben said with a chuckle. “Well, good luck, brother. Maybe tonight’s date will be the one.”

  Wes wasn’t looking for the one. He’d watched their father make a mockery of marriage far too long to want to jump into matrimony himself.

  “I’m sure you’ll read about it in tomorrow’s paper.” Lifting a hand in a gesture of parting, Wes strode off in the direction of his car.

  *

  On the following Monday afternoon, Vivian sat staring at the small square logo displayed on her smartphone screen and wondered if she’d created a monster instead of a dreamland of everlasting love. The notion behind the red-and-silver key that represented My Perfect Match was to unlock the secrets of undying love. And once the logo was tapped by an eager finger, it unfurled to show a romantic image of two golden wedding bands bound together on a bed of white velvet.

  Everything about the design and the meaning behind it had seemed textbook. That is, until Vivian had started using it. Now she felt as if she’d stepped into a nightmare. One she couldn’t escape. Had she been wrong all along about finding a compatible mate? Was Wes right about two people needing a fire between them to make a relationship work? If so, then he was going to win their little wager. Even worse, My Perfect Match would be a total failure.

  “We have five minutes left of our break. Are you going to spend it staring at your phone?”

  The question came from Justine, who was sitting across the utility table, sipping on a canned soda. Today Vivian’s coworker was wearing a tight black sweater and a red skirt that molded to her hips. If the neckline on her sweater had been a half inch lower, the office manager probably would’ve sent her home for not following proper dress code. But Justine was one to push the envelope and every once in a while, like this very moment, Vivian wished she could be a bit more like risky Justine.

  “I’m not staring at my phone,” Vivian corrected her. “I’m thinking.”

  Justine chuckled. “Trying to decide which one of those losers you want to go out with again?”

  Vivian glared at her. “That’s an awful thing to say. All of my dates have been polite gentlemen.”

  “A nice way of calling them dull.”

  Unfortunately, Justine couldn’t have been more right. These past few nights, Vivian had been bored out of her mind and wondering how she could endure another evening trying to meet her Mr. Perfect.

  After sipping her coffee and realizing it was on the verge of getting cold, she rose to her feet to toss it into the nearest wastebasket.

  “Well, I’m not giving up,” she told Justine. “Sooner or later, an interesting and good-looking guy will show up. After all, these men are being pulled from the test pool. Once the app goes on sale on Valentine’s Day, then the playing field will widen considerably.”

  “You hope. From what I’ve seen in the papers, Wes doesn’t need a deeper pool of dating candidates to choose from. He looks like he’s doing mighty fine.”

  “He’s been lucky,” Vivian retorted.

  Her phone suddenly chirped, notifying her that she had an incoming text message. Vivian tossed the foam coffee cup, then retrieved the phone from the tabletop.

  Come to my office. Now.

  What did he want? To gloat, Vivian thought.

  Across the table, Justine studied her closely. “What’s wrong? You look like you could bite the head off a nail.”

  If Vivian had an angry look on her face, it was because she was disgusted with the way her heart had suddenly skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Wes again. What was wrong with her, anyway? She’d worked with the man for six years, and in his presence the only thing she’d ever had on her mind was whether he’d approve of her work. But now, that damn app and all their talk about romance and dating and marriage had made her take a second look at him. And instead of seeing her boss, she was seeing a man. A most dangerous thing to be doing. Especially if she expected to hold on to her job and her senses.

  “I have to go to Wes’s office. Would you stop by George’s desk and tell him as soon as I finish I’ll help him work on the equation he needs?”

  “Sure, Viv.”

  Slipping her phone in the pocket of her sweater, she hurried out of the break room.

  *

  Although Wes had never been as much of a playboy as Ben, he’d always felt comfortable around women. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt tongue-tied or nervous about meeting one. Which was a good thing, considering that this past week, he’d been meeting women who were total strangers. But this idea he was going to present to Vivian had turned his mouth to West Texas sand.

  What if she refused? He’d look like a total idiot.

  The light rap on the door had him looking away from the window to see Vivian entering his office. A dark gray skirt fluttered against her knees, while a white silk blouse was tucked inside the tiny waistband. The clothes could hardly be described as sexy, but as he watched her stride toward him, he decided there was something very charming about the way she looked in them.

  “Hello, Vivian.” He motioned for her to join him at the wal
l of glass. “Come look.”

  When she reached his side, he pointed to a bare-limbed hackberry tree in the small patch of ground behind the building. “A pair of mourning doves is back at the nest. They’re getting ready to raise another brood.”

  “I didn’t realize you were a bird watcher,” she said.

  “I’m not. About a year ago, while I was standing here at the window, I just happened to notice these two. They have a nest in a fork of that big limb on the right side of the tree trunk.”

  She leaned closer to the window. While she searched for a glimpse of the nest, Wes found himself looking at the way her warm brown hair was pulled carelessly back from her face and how her lips had a hint of raspberry color on them.

  “You couldn’t know it’s the same doves,” she reasoned.

  “I might keep my head stuck in a computer most of the time, but I do know a little about the outdoors. Doves usually go back to the nest they’ve used before. And they’re like coyotes or wolves. Once they mate, they’re together for life.”

  “Too bad the human species doesn’t possess the same devotion.”

  The bitter tone in her voice surprised Wes. Had she been hurt in the past by an unfaithful lover? Or was she simply talking about society in general? Either way, now wasn’t a good time to pursue those types of questions.

  “Well, I think devotion got pushed aside by our higher intelligence,” he murmured thoughtfully.

  She smelled like a flower after a soft rain. Without consciously knowing it, he’d come to associate the unique scent with her. But then, these past few days, he’d begun to notice all sorts of little things about Vivian that he’d never taken the time to notice before.

  He was studying the curtain of hair resting against her back when she suddenly turned from the window and speared him with a questioning look.

  “I don’t think you called me to your office to discuss the mating habits of mourning doves, did you?”

  He cleared his throat. “No. I wanted to talk with you about something else.”

  Concern marked her brow. “Has something gone wrong with the app?” she asked quickly. “A glitch in distribution? What—”

  He held up a hand before she could go any further. “As far as I know, everything is still a go for the Valentine’s Day roll out. Don’t worry. Our techs will make sure every available buyer can easily download the app.”