A Fortunes Of Texas Christmas

“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.”