A Fortune In Waiting

Johnny flashed a broad grin while Keaton held up a hand. “Generous,” he murmured, “but not—”

The other man clapped him hard on the back. “Boy, if a beautiful woman offers you pie, don’t say no.”

“Pecan for Johnny,” Francesca continued, “and apple for our friend from across the pond.”

“Got it,” Brandi shouted.

“Enjoy, fellas,” Francesca said quickly, still avoiding Keaton’s blue gaze. She hurried to the safety of her corner booth and slid in with a sigh. Crisis avoided—both Johnny making a bigger scene and her revealing what a bumbling idiot she was around Keaton.

It didn’t take long to become engrossed in her studies. Accounting was her toughest subject and the more she looked at the numbers, the more of a jumble they became in her head. She was staring at a particularly challenging problem when she felt someone approach the booth.

By the way butterflies zipped across her stomach, she didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.

“May I join you?” Keaton asked in his rich accent.

The thoughtfulness of that question made a soft warmth spread through her. Most people at the diner just plopped down when they needed something, as if Francesca’s opinion on whether she wanted company didn’t matter.

She appreciated having her opinion matter to someone, even in such an insubstantial decision.

“Or not,” Keaton continued. “I can see you’re busy. Perhaps another time.”

When he started to walk away, his mouth pressed into a thin line, she realized she hadn’t actually given him an answer.

Add rude to her list along with bumbling and idiot.

“Please sit down,” she called to him.

He turned and slipped into the seat across from her.

“How was the pie?” she asked, her words sounding embarrassingly breathless.

“Worth enduring Johnny’s company while I ate it,” he said with a half smile. “Thank you for that and for diffusing the situation. You are the prettiest knight in shining armor I’ve ever met.”

She was so busy watching to see if the half smile turned into a full grin that it took a minute for his words to sink in. Had he just called her pretty?

“How did you know I prefer apple?”

She shrugged. “Lola May’s isn’t huge. You order a slice of apple pie every night.”

“It’s the best.” He leaned a little closer. “You also know my name.”

“The diner caters to regulars. You’re becoming a regular, Keaton, so I know your name.”

“I appreciate that, Francesca,” he answered.

Lord have mercy, it was a good thing she was sitting down because the way her name sounded in his rich, cultured voice made her knees go weak.

“You know I’m an architect.”

She felt color rise to her cheeks but didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”

“And the bit about my reputation?”

She huffed out a soft laugh. “I guessed at that.”

One of his thick brows rose.

“Someone is sinking a ton of money into the Austin Commons project across the street. Reports say it’s going to be the new retail and residential anchor for the neighborhood. They wouldn’t leave the design to someone who couldn’t handle it.” Now she leaned in, something about the warmth in his gaze inviting her closer. “Was I wrong about you?”

“No.”

“Are you famous?”

The smile widened. “In some circles, I suppose.”

“I also heard,” she murmured, “that you’re part of the Fortune family.”

He nodded, his blue eyes turning cool as he sat back against the vinyl-covered cushion of the booth. Interesting. Most people she knew would be shouting their connection to such a powerful family from the rooftops. Keaton seemed uncomfortable that she’d mentioned it. All traces of the smile disappeared from his face, making him look no less handsome but a lot more intimidating.

“It was pretty big news in Austin when Gerald Robinson was revealed to be that Fortune heir who everyone thought was dead.”

“Jerome Fortune.”

“Right,” she agreed. “Gerald Robinson is really Jerome Fortune. He’s your father?”

“He is.”

“Is that why you took on Austin Commons? To get to know your dad?”

“No,” he answered, the word spoken through clenched teeth. “I want nothing to do with the man, although I’m happy to spend time with my half siblings.”

It seemed she’d struck a nerve, so she quickly changed the subject. “I always wanted brothers and sisters.” She reached for her water glass and took a long drink, suddenly aware that she was sitting in Lola May’s, having a conversation with Keaton Fortune Whitfield. So much for all her plans about flirting.

She was lucky to be able to put a complete sentence together with him watching her from those gorgeous blue eyes. The lashes that surrounded them were so long they looked almost unreal. The strong line of his jaw and the faint shadow of stubble covering it balanced his beautiful eyes and full mouth.

“You’re an only child?” he prompted, the half smile returning, as if he could read her mind and understood exactly his effect on her.

She nodded. “It was just my mom and me.”

“I was raised by a single mum, as well.” He blew out a breath. “The whole time I was growing up, she worked at least two jobs to support me. She was my hero.”

All she could do was stare at him. Of all the things this man could have said, there was nothing more endearing to Francesca than how much he obviously loved his mother.

He flashed a full-fledged grin, somewhat self-deprecating, as if he hadn’t meant to share that detail with her. “Do I sound like a mummy’s boy?”

“Hardly,” she said on a small laugh. “You sound like the type of son every mother dreams about.” She paused then said, “I like the way you say ‘mum’ with your accent.”

“This coming from the woman with the adorable twang.”