by Helen Lacey
But just thinking about his usual pattern made him feel sick to his stomach. Was that who he had become? A man with such little regard for the most intimate thing two people could do together, a man who treated women like playthings? Sure, he’d never played roulette with birth control or ever said I love you, but did that really make him any different from the one person he never wanted to be compared to? Gerald Robinson. Was being an honest and indifferent asshole toward women any better than lying and deception?
No...
“Are you okay, Amersen?”
His whole body tightened. “Fine,” he denied, for a crazy, guilty moment wanting to turn around and take her home to her ranch.
“Good,” she said, and he could hear her smile. “Next right, turn.”
He did as she asked and spotted a sign that said Mendoza Winery. He’d heard anecdotally about the place but knew little of its history. Amersen followed the road, turned into a driveway and drove beneath a tall set of open gates.
“It’s amazing in the daylight,” she said as she reached over and placed her hand on his thigh. Her touch was light but possessive, and he didn’t mind one bit. “The vines run on either side, and there are several really amazing gardens here and the most brilliant sculpture garden out the back. You just have to see it.”
“Is that why you like it so much? For the gardens and the sculptures, not the wine?”
She chuckled. “You know me, always thinking about what I can plant where.”
“Kate said she would offer you a job at Fortune Cosmetics in the laboratory if she thought you would accept.”
She sighed lightly. “I know. But I’m happier outside.”
Five minutes later they were inside the restaurant and seated at a table she had booked. The place was high-end and well-appointed, and he thought that adding the restaurant and function rooms to the winery was a solid idea. Not something he’d want to do at his own place, but it clearly appeared to be a successful venture. Their table was discreet and well positioned, overlooking the gardens. Several heat lamps had been fired up to add warmth and atmosphere, and the place was humming. Waitstaff hovered, taking their drink order, and when the wine they ordered arrived, it was a heady merlot he liked very much. The Texas wine industry was a growing concern, not as steeped in tradition as places like Napa, but the reputation of the wines was growing accordingly. Even as a competitor, Amersen could appreciate a quality product.
“How does it measure up?” she asked, as though reading his thoughts. “I mean, to yours.”
He chuckled softly. “That’s something of a loaded question, ma chérie.”
She smiled, her blue eyes glittering with the promise of what the night would hold. The truth was, he couldn’t wait to strip off her sexy dress and make love to every inch of her. He wanted to feel her beneath him, he wanted to watch her come apart in his arms, he wanted to hear his name on her sighs as she convulsed with pleasure.
“I like how you call me that,” she said and watched him over the rim of her glass.
He tapped his chest lightly. “It is what is in here. Perhaps I say it better in my native language than English, yes?”
Before she could respond, a waiter arrived and they ordered their meals. When the man left, the intimate mood had shifted slightly, and she talked about Christmas and asked him questions about Paris and how long he would be staying in Austin.
“I am...unsure. However, my business with Kate will no doubt bring me back here in the future.”
“Good.”
Amersen saw doubt in her gaze and reached across the table and grasped her hand. “I don’t want to mislead you, Robin. That is not who I am.”
“I know,” she said and squeezed his fingers tightly. “I guess I would like to see where this might lead.”
His gut took a dive. Because he wanted that, too, and the fact they lived in different countries was a glaring, insurmountable obstacle. He wasn’t sure it was something they could get past. And yet he suddenly had an image of her beside him, hands linked as they walked through his vineyard on the hill.
Their meals arrived shortly afterward, and he watched as she savored every mouthful of the stuffed chicken breast. Everything with Robin seemed like an adventure. Eating good food, sipping wine, walking through the streets of Austin, watching an old movie, making love as though there was no tomorrow.
“Excuse me, you’re Amersen Beaudin, correct?”
He turned at the sound of a deep male voice to his left. A man in his early thirties stood near their table, dressed in a dark suit. Amersen didn’t know him, but he was used to being recognized. Of course, it mostly happened in his hometown, but the world was a much smaller place thanks to social media. Amersen placed his wineglass on the table and nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
The man held out his hand. “Good evening. My name is Alejandro Mendoza. Welcome to the Mendoza Winery.”
Right. So he’d been recognized, because this man was obviously the owner and knew he also owned a vineyard and produced wine. He shook his hand and quickly introduced Robin. She smiled and said hello, and then he turned as much attention as he could muster to the other man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. I hear you have the best winemaker in the entire Loire Valley. It must be challenging trying to keep him at your vineyard.”
Amersen smiled to himself thinking that the humble yet passionate seventy-year-old winemaker Jean-Pierre would laugh out loud if he knew he was being discussed as the best in the business from the other side of the globe. “It is what many say. Although he has already turned down three job offers this month. But if you feel you can match the ridiculously large salary I pay him, please, take a shot.”
Alejandro laughed. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying. Oh, I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”
“Of course.”
“Querida,” Alejandro said and beckoned someone to his side. Within seconds an attractive, slender woman with long dark hair and brown eyes sidled up beside the other man. “Liv, I’d like you to meet Amersen Beaudin... Amersen, this is my wife, Olivia Fortune Mendoza.”
Amersen’s skin turned bitingly cold, and he angled his head and met the woman’s gaze. He saw the shock in her expression and then the quick way she masked her surprise. There was no doubting it.
She knew.
He felt his lungs tighten, experienced a familiar dread crawling across his skin as he jerked his gaze away. He could hear Alejandro Mendoza jabbering on about how he owned a vineyard and was a celebrity and was known by his first name on social media, but the sound of his voice became a drone in Amersen’s ears. All he heard was one thing.
Fortune.
This woman, with her haunted brown eyes, was a Fortune. One of the Fortunes.
She smiled tentatively, muttered something to her husband and quickly excused herself. As she walked off, Amersen experienced an intense surge of relief. Except for the tightness in his chest and the feeling that he could barely a drag a breath into his lungs. Alejandro lingered for a moment, offered Amersen a return visit during the day to inspect the vineyard and wished them a pleasant evening. Once the other man was gone, he took a breath, and then another, the tightness increasing, the discomfort rising in his chest. Amersen knew where he was heading, knew his lungs would fail him if he didn’t do something about it.
“Are you okay?”
Robin. It was the first time she’d spoken in minutes. He met her gaze and saw concern and confusion in her expression. “Actually...no. I don’t feel well. Do you mind if we finish here and head out?”
The furrow about her nose increased. “No...of course not.”
Once they were back in the car, Amersen grabbed the inhaler he’d tossed into the glove compartment earlier that day. The thought of Robin witnessing him struggling for breath was unbearable...but if he d
idn’t use the inhaler, he knew he would be in for a full-blown attack. He took a puff. And then another, not daring to look in her direction.
Finally, she spoke. “Are you okay?”
He glanced sideways, seeing her concern and hating that she’d witnessed him needing his medication. “Fine,” he lied, his pride well and truly battered.
“What happened in there?”
Amersen shrugged. “Nothing. Just a combination of cold night air and jet lag. I told you I was an asthmatic.”
He didn’t want to lie to her...but he wasn’t in any mood to come clean, either.
She didn’t look convinced. “Let me drive back.”
“No,” he said, harsher than he liked. “I’m fine.”
“Amersen, please let me—”
“I don’t need to be coddled, Robin. The inhaler did its job and I am back to normal. Stop fretting.”
She opened her mouth to speak again, but Amersen gently placed a finger to her lips.
“I assure you, I am quite fine now. Please don’t worry.”
Her eyes glittered. “Okay.”
He managed to control his breathing as he drove her back to her ranch, knowing she would say something when she realized they weren’t headed to his hotel in the city.
“Oh...I thought...”
“I have some international calls I have to make tonight,” he said, trying to keep his voice as light and unaffected as possible. Trying not to let her see that he was coming apart at the seams. “Sorry, Robin, I should have said something earlier.”
“Oh, well...okay. I understand.”
But he knew she didn’t. She would be hurt and confused and rightly so. But he couldn’t say anything else. It was too much. Too hard. Too...close to her potentially seeing him in pieces.
“I’ll drop your things by tomorrow, if that’s okay?” he suggested when he pulled up outside her small house.
She nodded, her hand on the door handle. Then she stilled. “Amersen...have I done something to—”
“No,” he said quickly and grabbed her other hand, raising her knuckles to his mouth. “I genuinely don’t feel well and don’t think I will be any kind of company tonight. I will make it up to you, okay?”
She nodded a little but didn’t look convinced. “Okay.”
Amersen got out and walked her to the door, kissed her softly and then left before he changed his mind. He waited until she was inside and the door was closed before he headed back to the car. He took a slow, deep breath, and then another, trying to focus, trying not to think about Robin, or the fact he wouldn’t be making love to her that night, since he’d cut their evening short. Because he couldn’t think of anything other than the one truth that was churning through his blood.
That barely an hour earlier, he’d come face-to-face with Olivia Fortune Mendoza.
His sister.
* * *
Robin woke up Monday morning with a head full of conflicting emotions. Including anger and a whole load of confusion. What had started out as a romantic, wonderful day had ended so abruptly she was trying to work out what had gone so disastrously wrong.
It didn’t make sense. Amersen had pursued her. He’d flown back to Texas, he’d arrived at her family home and endured the scrutiny of her parents and brothers. He’d insisted they spend the day together. And the night. They’d flirted and touched and she’d believed they would make love. But...no. Because instead of the dreamy, passion-filled night she’d anticipated, he’d dropped her off at her doorstep with little more than a perfunctory kiss and then bidden her good-night with some vague indication that he’d see her soon.
Hot and then cold.
As though something had happened to change his mind about them. Which made her replay the entire day and evening over and over in her head. And every time she got to the point where Alejandro introduced his wife to them, Robin came up with the same answer. Amersen had shut down the moment he came face-to-face with Olivia Fortune Mendoza.
Because he knew her. It was the only possible reason. He knew her and didn’t want anyone to know it. Including Robin and Alejandro. Olivia was a beautiful woman. A beautiful married woman. And both Olivia and Amersen had looked like they wanted to be somewhere else the moment Alejandro made the introduction.
She felt sick to her stomach the moment she suspected it. It couldn’t possibly be true, could it?
Amersen had insisted he knew no one in Austin. Every possible scenario raced through her head as she got dressed in jeans and a sweater and pulled on her purple boots. Did they know each other from some old acquaintance? Was it a new relationship? Was it serious? Was it intimate?
She spent the whole day making herself crazy with possible scenarios. And ignored the call and two text messages he sent her around lunchtime. Because what she had to say to him, she wanted to say face-to-face.
She left work early, and by the time she drove to his hotel, it was close to three o’clock and she sent him a text message as she strode across the foyer.
We need to talk.
Her cell dinged barely seconds later.
I know. I’ll come to your place.
She replied immediately.
No need. I’m downstairs. Meet me at the elevator.
A couple of minutes later, he met her by the elevator door. He didn’t say a word. Neither did she. He simply grasped her elbow and led her into the elevator, and they traveled up to the top floor in silence. Once they were in his suite, he poured her a glass of wine, grabbed the one he’d obviously been drinking—since it was half-full—and sat down on the sofa.
She took a good look at him and realized he looked tired and as though he had some great burden pressing down on his shoulders. He hadn’t shaved, so dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his clothes were crumpled. They looked like the same clothes he’d worn the night before. He wasn’t looking at her. He had his elbows on his knees and was staring into his wineglass. Something, she realized, was seriously wrong.
Robin decided there was little point in playing games or stalling simply because she didn’t want to face the truth. So, she jumped right in.
“Are you sleeping with Olivia Fortune Mendoza?”
That made him look up. And right into her gaze. His mouth was a harsh, thin line.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Robin winced. “Then what?” she demanded.
He shrugged and looked away. Clearly, it wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. Well, too bad.
“Oh, no,” she said and moved around the coffee table. “This isn’t where you get to be all moody and closed off. Because if you don’t answer the question, Amersen, I will walk out the door and we’ll never see one another again.”
His gaze rose instantly. “I can’t...” His voice was ragged and uneven, and he placed the wineglass on the table with an unsteady hand. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
“The truth,” she said, gentler this time, because she saw a kind of raw vulnerability in his expression that she’d never seen before. “I just want the truth.”
He took a long breath, sounding as though it was one of the hardest of his life. “Olivia is... She’s my...”
She’d never seen him struggle for words as he did now. And when he spoke again, his blue eyes were glittering bright and were filled with uneasy emotion.
“She’s my sister.”
Sister?
Robin absorbed his words, trying to make sense of them and failing. It didn’t make sense. Amersen’s sister was called Claire and she lived in Paris. And Olivia was a Fortune who’d married a Mendoza. What possible link could there be between her and Amersen? Robin tried to connect the dots in her head and failed, coming up with more questions instead of answers. She remembered what he’d told her about his parents and that Luc wasn’t his bio
logical father. And then the penny suddenly dropped in spectacular fashion.
Oh my god...could it be true? Could Amersen Beaudin be one of the illegitimate Fortunes?
“But...but that would mean...that would mean that Gerald Robinson is your—”
“Nothing!” He got to his feet and paced around the sofa, hands clenched, arms at his sides, his shoulders tighter than she’d ever seen them. “He’s nothing to me. Just the man who got my mother pregnant.”
She heard the pain and resentment in his voice, and her heart ached for him. “Who knows?”
“No one,” he replied flatly. “Just my parents. And Keaton Whitfield and Ben Fortune. And Olivia, by her reaction last night.” He ran a weary hand through his hair. “And probably the rest of the damned Fortunes.”
“Kate?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. She’s never mentioned it—but I have no idea if that’s why she invited me to Austin, or whether it really was about the business deal. All I know is that seeing Olivia last night made me think I should reconsider this whole cologne idea.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I’m not sure I want anything to do with anyone named Fortune,” he replied harshly. “You saw the look on Olivia’s face... She was no more impressed by the meeting than I was.”
“She was probably surprised,” Robin suggested, trying to act impartial—which was hard when he looked so achingly vulnerable. She’d never seen him lacking confidence like he did in that moment. “But, despite that...you are related. Once the shock wears off, you might be able to get to know her...and the rest of them.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
“But they do, right?” she inquired as she placed her wine on the side table and moved around the sofa. “They’ve offered the olive branch, haven’t they? Or at least someone has? Keaton?”
He frowned instantly. “How did you know that?”
“I bumped into his wife, Francesca, on Friday,” she explained and then gave a brief account of the conversation. “So, he obviously wants to make contact. What’s holding you back?”