Christmastime Courtship

by Marie Ferrarella

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, eager to get away from his burning gaze. Sheesh, the guy had the intensity thing down pat. “You’re here to see Kate,” she said, more statement than question.

  He nodded. “Yes. Are you a relative?”

  His English was perfect, and his accent was so incredibly sexy that her knees acted treacherously and threatened to buckle beneath his warm, penetrating gaze. She wanted to run, to flee from his stare and never look back. Men like Amersen Beaudin spelled trouble...and Robin had made a decision to categorically avoid trouble after breaking up with her no-good, two-timing boyfriend eight months earlier. The next man she fell for wasn’t going to look like he belonged on the cover of a fashion magazine. He was going to be the complete opposite of Louse of the Century Trey Hammond. And the complete opposite of Amersen Beaudin, for that matter.

  “No,” Robin replied, ignoring the heat smacking her cheeks. “Kate’s inside,” she said, figuring he’d get the hint that she wasn’t interested in a conversation.

  “But you’re out here,” he said smoothly, each word a blatant flirtation.

  Robin stepped back. “She’s expecting you.”

  “I know.”

  “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  His mouth twisted in an amused grin. “She sounds formidable. Should I ask you to accompany me? For protection?”

  Robin didn’t dare meet his gaze. She didn’t want to look directly into his brilliant blue eyes. “You look resilient enough to handle yourself, Mr. Beaudin.”

  He chuckled. “You know who I am?”

  “I know enough,” she said and stepped back. “Kate’s waiting for you in the front living room. Best get a move on.”

  “You’re very...” His voice trailed off, as though he was searching for the right word. “Bossy.”

  Robin almost laughed out loud. Her two older brothers always called her that. “Thank you,” she said tightly. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve received all day.”

  “In that dress,” he said quietly, “I doubt it. However, if nice is what does it for you, I’m sure I can accommodate you, Miss...”

  Robin shivered. It was a blatant flirtation. Everything about the damnable man was seductive. She ignored his angling for her name. “Oh, I see,” she said and raised her chin, connecting with his gaze full on. “You’re one of those men who can’t help but come on to every woman you meet.”

  She heard him suck in a sharp breath, saw his brilliant blue eyes darken. “Every woman?” he echoed and tilted his head slightly. “No.”

  Robin put a hand to her chest in mock appreciation. “Then I’m flattered...but not interested.”

  “Really?”

  He sounded shocked, and it made Robin laugh. “Really,” she replied. “And right now you should be thinking about your meeting with Kate and not anything...else.”

  He stared at her. “Is this what’s called Texas hospitality?”

  “No,” she said and took another step. “Simply good advice, Mr. Beaudin. Good luck with your interview.”

  Then she turned on her heels, headed down the steps and raced around toward the guesthouse—far away from Amersen Beaudin and his absurdly sexy blue eyes. Hoping that with a little luck, she’d never have to see him again.

  Must. Not. Think. He’s. Sexy.

  Not ever.

  But she did. Which spelled nothing but trouble.

  * * *

  Interview?

  Amersen was still mulling that idea a couple of minutes later as a plump sixtysomething housekeeper invited him inside the big house. He ignored the idea that he’d been thoroughly and emphatically rejected by the nameless garden goddess and crossed the threshold, following the woman down the hall. It was a grand home, with a wide stairway, polished floors and stylish furnishings. The front living room was equally impressive, and it occurred to him that many people would be intimidated by the wealth and opulence. But he wasn’t. Maybe he’d become overused to wealth in the past few years.

  And Kate Fortune was as incredible as he’d expected—she was tall and still striking despite her years, and she regarded him with a kind of high-browed curiosity as he walked through the door and introduced himself. She was standing by the fireplace, looking elegant in a shell-pink suit with an ivory silk blouse and a thin row of pearls around her neck. Her hair was neat, her makeup impeccable and her demeanor one of style personified. Yes, Kate Fortune was every bit as imposing as he’d been led to believe. But he wasn’t daunted. Far from it. Amersen was keen to talk to her and hear her out.

  “It was very good of you to come all this way to meet me,” she said, stretching out one long, elegant hand toward him. “I trust you had a comfortable flight?”

  Amersen nodded and shook her hand. “Yes, thank you. Supplying the jet for my trip was very thoughtful of you.”

  She shrugged lightly and then waved a hand. “Would you prefer to converse in French?”

  His curiosity deepened. “You speak French, Ms. Fortune?”

  “Some,” she replied. “And please, call me Kate.”

  He nodded. “I’m happy to speak in English.”

  She smiled a little and motioned for him to take a seat on one of the sofas. “Yes, well, you speak it very well. You studied business at Cambridge for several years, correct?”

  Amersen’s brows rose fractionally as he sat down opposite her. “You’ve done some homework.”

  “Of course,” she said and shrugged lightly. “I like to know who I’m going into business with.”

  “Is that what we’re doing?”

  Her mouth rose in one corner. “Time will tell, I suppose. No doubt you’re curious as to why I asked you to come here.”

  “Yes.”

  She sat back. “You’ve heard of Fortune Cosmetics?”

  “Of course.”

  She nodded approvingly. “It’s no secret that the business is very successful in this country, but I want to extend the reach of our products. To bring something new to the brand. A kind of European flair, for want of a better expression. And I wanted to discuss that idea with you.”

  Amersen frowned. “You do know that I own a nightclub and a winery? I mean to say, I don’t have any connection to the cosmetics business in my country.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “But when it comes to my company, I like to approach opportunities from different angles.”

  Amersen linked his hands together. “I know you founded the company, but I thought that Graham Fortune Robinson was now CEO of Fortune Cosmetics.”

  “He is,” she said. “He took on the role over a year ago, and he’s doing a wonderful job.”

  “But?” Amersen prompted.

  “But Fortune Cosmetics is still my company, and I’m working on several projects at the moment. Including this one.”

  “I’m a project?” he asked, biting back a grin, thinking about the garden nymph and how she’d suggested he was being interviewed and how it actually felt like he was. He was almost tempted to ask Kate who the woman in the garden was. But didn’t. This was the time for business.

  “Potentially,” Kate replied. “I want to promote the brand into Europe, and into France in particular. I would like you to help me do that.”

  Stunned, Amersen straightened his back. “And how would I do that, precisely?”

  “I have a few ideas.”

  “Why me?” he asked bluntly.

  She smiled lightly. “Because I think you know the French. I think you know Europe. I think you know what people want, and without sounding condescending, I believe you can recognize a good business opportunity on a level that’s rarely seen in someone so young.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she raised her hand a little. “Yes, I’ve done my research. I know much about you. I’ve read your blog
and I’m familiar with your accomplishments, including your financial success, and I must say, I’m impressed. You have a knack for getting right down into the core of things...and people respond to that. I particularly enjoyed the blog you did recently about society’s almost insatiable appetite for celebrity gossip. And since you’re something of a celebrity yourself, I imagine you were speaking from experience.”

  Amersen shrugged. “In general terms. If you put yourself in the public eye, gossip and innuendo almost happen organically. I have a reputation for writing the truth along with a good dose of cynicism... If I’m prepared to dish it out, I have to be prepared to take it, as well.”

  Kate nodded and laughed softly. “Yes, exactly. You know, you and I are a lot alike, Amersen. We’re both ambitious and driven by the need to have more than just an ordinary life.”

  Amersen stilled, wondering if she was going to mention the family connection—if that was why she believed they shared similar traits. He’d prepared himself for her questions when he’d made the decision to fly to Texas and would certainly tell Kate the truth if she asked.

  “I’ve lived a life that many consider glamorous and entitled,” she went on to say. “A life that many have envied. But I’ve had to work hard for every inch of my success. Much like yourself, I suspect.”

  Amersen waited for her to slip Gerald Robinson’s name into the conversation, figuring she had the perfect segue. But to his surprise, she didn’t. “Perhaps.”

  She nodded agreeably. “Which is why I believe that a Beaudin/Fortune product would be a huge success. Something that would make the consumer feel a little bit of that glamour...even if it’s for only a moment.”

  Amersen’s instincts were piqued, but he wasn’t about to rush into an agreement about anything. Despite his reputation for being a little wild and impulsive, at the core he was prudent when it came to business. And he wasn’t about to do anything that could damage his reputation. Or his bank account.

  “What kind of product are we talking about?”

  “A men’s product, of course,” she replied. “A fragrance...something that is innately masculine, but also aspirational.”

  A cologne? It seemed a huge stretch from his established nightclub and wine brand. But he was intrigued by the idea and the opportunity. “And you want to put my name on the box, is that right?”

  She nodded again. “Yes.”

  Amersen stood straighter. “It sounds risky.”

  “Of course,” Kate said and chuckled. “But good business is often about risk. Didn’t you take a risk turning that old warehouse into a nightclub five years ago?”

  “Indeed. Everyone thought I had lost my mind and that it would be a complete disaster.”

  Her brows rose. “And everyone was wrong. I believe in risks...in taking chances. I believe in you, and I think we could do something special with this idea.”

  Amersen was curious, but cautious. “I need to think about it.”

  “Certainly,” she said and smiled knowingly. “But let’s not wait too long to pull together a plan. Opportunity like this doesn’t come along very often, as you are no doubt aware.” She got to her feet with an elegance that defied her years. “I would like to offer you a tour of the Fortune Cosmetics headquarters in town while you are here. Of course, that’s if you intend to stay in Austin for a few days?”

  The same headquarters where Graham Fortune Robinson worked? Amersen wasn’t sure that was such a good idea and remained noncommittal. “I have a room booked at a hotel in town. I’ll think about your offer and get back to you.”

  “Okay, we’ll speak again soon.”

  He was being dismissed, but he didn’t mind. He had a lot to think about and needed solitude to do so. “We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promised.

  Amersen shook Kate’s hand and left. He walked from the house, glancing once toward the rotunda before he got back into the limo. He pushed the memory of the woman in the white dress from his thoughts and tried to get his mind back to business. Fortune business. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get into bed with the Fortunes.

  With the woman in the white dress, sure.

  He’d take her to bed in a microsecond.

  And as the limo eased down the driveway, Amersen made a mental note to ask Kate about her the next time they met. Instinct told him they’d meet again. And he always trusted his instincts. They’d never failed him.

  And he found it particularly ironic that being Gerald Robinson’s illegitimate son might just bring him good fortune.

  Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.

  ISBN-13: 9781488014635

  Christmastime Courtship

  Copyright © 2017 by Marie Rydzynski-Ferrarella

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario M3B 3K9, Canada.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com