by Helen Lacey
“The orchard, I believe,” Kate replied, smiling just a little. “If you walk around the rotunda, you’ll find it easily enough. Goodbye, Amersen. Thank you for stopping by before you left. It was very unexpected.”
He felt about sixteen years old under the older woman’s scrutiny. Because Kate Fortune knew exactly why he’d stopped by, and that the reason had nothing to do with their impending deal. But it had everything to do with Robin Harbin.
He said goodbye and left, heading outside. He walked around the gazebo and through an old timber gate and then stepped into the small orchard. He spotted Robin instantly. She was by one of the fruit trees, scraping pieces of bark into a small jar. She wore denim overalls, a long-sleeved red T-shirt, work boots and a purple hat. Her hair was tied up, but that still didn’t stop the mental image of her tresses draped over his thighs.
She was so engrossed in her chore that she didn’t appear to hear him approach. “Kate said I would find you here.”
She jumped and stepped back. “You startled me,” she said, scowling. “I was collecting samples.”
“So I see.”
She placed the jar alongside several others in a carrying case. “The trees aren’t fruiting like they’ve done in the past, and one of the neighboring ranches has had the same problem, so I’m checking for diseases.”
Amersen ignored her rambling, because he couldn’t have cared less about the trees. He only cared that she was in front of him, within touching distance. He reached out and grasped her hand, rolling out her fingers before placing the unicorn necklace into her palm. “You forgot to take this.”
She looked at the trinket. “I didn’t forget.”
Something uncurled in his gut. A kind of uneasy annoyance that he was unused to. “You don’t want it?”
For a moment he was sure he saw her hand tremble. But she then clasped her fingers around the necklace and smiled. “Sure. Of course. It’s very pretty and a nice memento of our time together.”
Amersen found himself frowning. Something was off. Not right. “Are you angry with me?”
“No,” she replied. “Of course not. Why would I be?” She let out a shrill laugh. “It’s been a fun week getting to know you, and last night the sex was great.”
“Yes,” he said quietly, looking for something he couldn’t define in her expression. “It was.”
She smiled again and met his gaze for just a moment. “So, I guess this is it, then. The final goodbye.”
“I guess so.”
She picked up the bag beside the tree, shoved the pruning shears into her back pocket and smiled widely. “Okay, take care of yourself, Amersen. Or as they say, au revoir!”
He watched as she turned and walked off, hips swinging, shoulders back. No recriminations. No big scene. No asking him when he would call. He should have been relieved. That was how he’d always wanted it in the past. Love them. Leave them. And don’t look back.
Now the tables had been well and truly turned. Before he’d had a chance to make some well-practiced speech about timing and it’s-not-you platitudes, she’d made the decision for him.
She’s done you a favor.
The thing was, he realized as he headed back to the waiting limo and endured the drive to the airport and then the long flight home, it didn’t feel like a favor.
It felt like a brush-off.
The first of his life.
Chapter Nine
The thing with taking the high road, Robin discovered as the following week turned into another, was that it could be a lonely place. Really, really lonely. Thank heavens she had her family and her work to keep her mind occupied. Which she did. She played the role of a happy twenty-four-year-old to perfection and fooled everyone.
Except Otis.
The old gardener knew something wasn’t quite right with her.
“I guess you’re pining after that fancy Frenchman, right?” he asked exactly twelve days after Amersen had flown out of Austin. She hadn’t heard from him. She hadn’t expected to. But she knew he was back in Paris, back to work and back to his old life. She’d read the blog posts to prove it, including one headlined Single and Loving It! Okay, so perhaps that was not what the post she’d read two days earlier had actually been called, but she hadn’t missed the message in it.
And then there was the photo he’d posted on Instagram of himself with a tall, skinny redhead to drive the point home. A picture with some suggestive hashtag that she couldn’t bear to read more than a trillion times. A picture that spoke volumes. His arm was around this awful woman’s waist. And the redhead, with her pouting lips and slumberous eyes, was leaning close, looking like she’d just had some kind of marathon sex session. A look that Robin knew well, because less than two weeks earlier she’d been the one with the cat-who-got-the-cream expression. And it wasn’t the only picture she’d seen. The week before it had been a brunette with exotic green eyes and a flat chest and legs that went on forever. He was everything she’d first believed. A playboy. A man whore. A bed-hopping swine.
And it hurt. So much. So damned much.
Robin laughed at Otis’s words, dying inside. “That’s ridiculous. Now, we need to talk about the roses that—”
“I got eyes,” he said, his craggy face wrinkling. “They might not be good for much, but I still got them. And you haven’t been yourself for the past week. I’m figuring it’s got something to do with him leaving.”
Robin did her best to look hinged and happy. “You’re imagining things. I don’t get swept up in that kind of nonsense, you know that.”
His expression didn’t alter. “I know that since that Hammond boy busted you up inside, you haven’t been seeing things clearly. But the Frenchman seemed to make things right for you, in here,” Otis said and tapped his heart.
Robin stared at Otis, then laughed. “What...are you my love guru now?”
“Someone needs to look out for you,” he said solemnly. “Don’t you think?”
Although she was touched by his concern, Robin knew she had to change the subject. The last thing she wanted was anyone thinking she was harboring feelings for Amersen Beaudin. With any luck, she’d never see him again. At least she was well and truly out of her dating funk now, and she was grateful to him for that.
Thinking about anything else, imagining it was anything else, was simply stupid.
Sex without strings.
Admit it, girl...it was just a breath away from being a one-night stand.
“I’m fine,” she assured him. “And to prove it, I have a date tonight.”
So maybe calling it a date was a stretch. But she was going out with a few friends for dinner and a movie. Thankfully, it was enough to stop Otis from making any more humiliating observations. When she got home later that afternoon, she showered and dressed in jeans, a bright purple sweater, a scarf and coat, and then headed into town.
She knew she was early the moment she entered Lola May’s Homestyle Restaurant, because the place was empty and neither of her friends Mara and Janine was there. But she didn’t mind. She waved to the waitress and grabbed a table, sliding into the booth seat as she chucked off her scarf. Then she looked at the scarf and realized it wasn’t hers. It was Amersen’s. The one he’d draped around her the night they’d watched the movie in the park. She’d almost forgotten she still had it, and certainly she’d had no intention of wearing the damn thing. She fingered the soft wool, felt a sudden and acute sense of loss, and admitted she wasn’t fooling anyone by denying the truth of what was in her heart. Even though she knew she’d been right to end things.
“Robin!”
She turned at the excited squeal and saw Francesca Fortune standing beside the booth. Or was it Francesca Fortune Whitfield? She wasn’t sure. They weren’t exactly close friends, but they had shared a few study groups together at college and were friendly
, at the very least. They’d meet up every few months for a quick coffee and catch up.
“Hey, Fran, how are things?”
“Good,” the other woman said and sat down with an invitation. Francesca was one of those people who had a bubbly energy around her. With blond curls and brown eyes, she was remarkably pretty and had a broad, infectious Texan twang, much like Robin’s own. “Just picking up some takeout. My gorgeous husband loves Lola May’s battered fries. Since Friday is our designated date night, we usually eat in, play Scrabble and just hang out together.”
It sounded like the perfect way to spend an evening with the person you cared about the most. Robin couldn’t help wondering if she’d ever find that kind of someone.
“Didn’t you used to work here?”
The other woman nodded. “Yep. Seems like an age ago now. How are things with you? Still working at Sterling’s Fortune?”
“Yes. Kate’s a great boss.”
Francesca’s mouth curled, and her eyes widened. “So, is it true that Kate Fortune and that Frenchman Amersen Beaudin are doing business together? I heard he was in town and at the ranch. Did you meet him?”
Robin’s stomach rolled. She wasn’t about to betray any confidences of either Kate’s or Amersen’s. As far as she knew, there had been no formal announcement of a business alliance between the two, and she had no intention of speculating. “I did. Although I wasn’t privy to their conversations.”
“Is he as hot as they say?”
She half shrugged. “He seems very nice.”
Francesca laughed. “You’re a terrible gossip, Robin—you’re like a vault. Which is a shame, because I know Keaton was hoping to speak with him while he was here.”
Robin frowned. “He was? Why?”
Francesca’s lovely face turned instantly serious. “Oh...it’s nothing. Just a business thing, I think. I don’t know the details. Anyway,” she said as she slid from the booth, “looks like my order is ready. Gotta run. Let’s make sure we catch up soon.”
Then she was gone, like a whirlwind. Robin remained in the booth, ordered a hot chocolate and drank it, only to be reminded that Amersen had bought her the same the night they’d watched the movie together. Between the scarf and the chocolate, she was suddenly overcome with such hopeless emotion she couldn’t stop the heat forming in her throat or the tears burning her eyes. And by the time Mara and Janine arrived, she was crying foolish, wasted tears.
It was Janine who asked the obvious question. “What’s going on, Robin?”
She looked up as they slid into the booth. “The worst thing imaginable. I’m in love,” she admitted, scratching at her eyes with a Kleenex.
“You are?” Mara said, clearly astonished. “Wow.”
Robin sucked in a breath, blew her nose and felt her resolve return. “Yes. And as usual, I’ve fallen for the wrong guy.”
Janine patted her hand. “What do you mean? Did he cheat on you like Trey?”
Robin shook her head. “No...worse. He was honest about everything. He didn’t cheat. He didn’t lie. He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.”
Mara didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “Um...Robin, that kind of makes him sound perfect.”
“Exactly,” she said and sniffed into the tissue. “He’s the most perfectly wrong man I have ever met. And I hate him for making me fall in love with him.”
Her friends nodded consolingly, as though they understood exactly what she meant.
“So, what are you going to do?” Mara asked.
“Eat chocolate and pretend he doesn’t exist,” she said, meaning every word, but knowing she had as much chance of forgetting about Amersen Beaudin as she did of going to the moon.
Both were out of the question.
* * *
“Is there something going on you would like to talk about?”
Amersen looked up from his desk. At one o’clock on Friday afternoon, the only people who would come into his office uninvited were the nightclub manager, Trudi, his closest friend, Fabien, and his mother. In this instance, it was his mother, Suzette.
“Not now, Maman. I am busy.”
She ignored him, as he knew she would, came into the room and sat in the chair opposite his desk. “Yes, now.”
Amersen sighed, pushed the laptop aside a fraction and looked toward his mother. “Okay, what?”
“You have been back for two weeks and have said very little. I’m concerned.”
He ignored the twitch in his gut. He didn’t want to have a heart-to-heart with his mother about Texas, the Fortunes or anything else. “I told you about Kate’s offer. There’s little else to tell.”
“And...the other thing?”
Resistance crept up his spine. He knew what she was asking. Knew she had her concerns about opening a door to secrets that had been hidden for twenty-five years. “Maman, I did not go to Texas to look for my past. It was business.”
“Just a coincidence, then?” she inquired “That you go to the same city that is home to your—”
“Those people mean nothing to me,” he said quickly. “I didn’t speak to them. Or meet them.”
“Perhaps you should have.”
Amersen stared at her. “Not a good idea.”
“I’m not talking about...Gerald,” she said, faltering a little over his name. “But Graham and Ben and Kieran and—”
“They mean nothing to me,” he said again, cutting through her words as she began rattling off the names of his biological half siblings. “My family is here. You and Papa and Claire. And frankly, I’m sure they have as many reservations about meeting as I do.”
She shrugged lightly. “Perhaps, but remember that they contacted you first... That makes their feelings plain enough, don’t you think?”
“Keaton Whitfield contacted me first,” he reminded her coolly. “And he is another of Gerald Robinson’s...mistakes.”
Suzette sat back in her seat and stared at him, her gaze softening as the seconds ticked by. “You know, I have never considered you to be a mistake. When I found out I was pregnant, I could only think that you were a blessing. And I still do.”
Guilt pitched between his shoulder blades. “Maman, I didn’t mean to—”
“I did love him,” she said, her eyes glittering. “Very much. And I truly believed he cared for me. And despite how things ended between me and Gerald, you were conceived in love. Gerald’s behavior, once I found out I was pregnant, had nothing to do with you—it was about his own obligations and responsibilities. He was married...something I knew when we began our affair. Children are always the innocents in these things, and the Robinson children are just as blameless as you.”
Amersen’s instinctive resentment kicked in. “I think they use the name Fortune now,” he said evenly.
“That’s their prerogative, I suppose. Gerald was Jerome Fortune before he became the man I knew. And blood...blood is hard to deny. They were lovely children—chances are they have grown into good people. People who, despite your reluctance to admit it, are your family. And a family that might be worth knowing.”
Amersen didn’t agree. “You’re my mother. Luc Beaudin is my father. Claire is my sister. That’s all the family I need. Or want.”
“Until you get married and have children of your own, yes?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Maybe. One day.”
Her mouth curled. “Something you want to tell me?”
“Not a thing,” he replied, eager to end the conversation.
His mother clearly wasn’t ready to let it go. “You were out of orbit for a whole week—no phone calls, no Instagram, no provocative blog posts. You might want everyone to believe that you were in Texas to see Kate Fortune, but I know you, Amersen...you never fly that low under the radar. Secret business deal or not. If yo
ur low profile wasn’t about running into your half siblings, then it was something else. And I’m guessing,” she said with a grin, “that it has something to do with a girl.”
Amersen jumped to his feet as though he had hot coals in his shoes. Robin. He was tired of thinking about her. Tired of dreaming about her. Tired of comparing every woman he met to her. He was uncharacteristically confused and didn’t understand why he had a knot of rage constantly churning in his gut at the mere idea that she’d brushed him off so easily. He should have been relieved. He should have returned home and gotten back to his life and dated whomever he wanted to and slept with someone else to get the memory of her out of his system. But he didn’t. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t interested in casual dating. And he was even less inclined to have casual sex.
Because he only wanted Robin.
Getting to know her, spending time with her, kissing her, making love with her. It had all seemed disturbingly surreal. And yet, somehow, the most real thing he’d ever experienced.
C’est juste du sexe...
It’s just sex.
It couldn’t be more. He didn’t do more. He didn’t make promises. He didn’t break hearts. He didn’t leave a trail of destruction in his wake.
I am not my father...
The acknowledgment exploded in his head like a nuclear bomb.
“Amersen?”
His mother’s voice brought him back to earth. “I’m fine, Maman.”
She still didn’t look convinced. “You’re a grown man, and I never tell you how to live your life—even if I sometimes don’t approve of your casual approach to things. I’m not going to tell you how to feel about Gerald or your half siblings—or anything else,” she added pointedly. “That being said, if you left unfinished business back in Austin, maybe you need to return and either sign on the dotted line or break the deal once and for all.”
Later, once his mother had left and Amersen thought about her words. Rife with platitudes, certainly—but she had a point. He wasn’t done with Austin. He wasn’t done with the Fortunes. And he wasn’t done with Robin.