Falling for Fortune

That was just about the only thing that Toby could’ve said to hit Christopher where he’d feel it.

The thing was, he didn’t even sound mad. Just...disappointed. A look that said, remember where you came from and don’t let the Fortunes change you into something you’re not.

He hadn’t forgotten and the Fortunes hadn’t changed him. He would be the first to admit that embracing the Fortunes’ world and starting on a desk job had taken some getting used to. He was surprised by how he sometimes missed not getting outside between the hours of nine and five. This indoor, sedentary job has been a challenge, but every time he looked at the view outside the windows of his executive’s office or at his bank account balance, it got easier and easier.

“Y’all must be hungry,” Christopher said. “Come on, let’s go get a bite to eat. I’ll treat you to lunch.”

* * *

“Excuse me, darlin’.” Kinsley Aaron frowned as she looked up from the notes she was taking while manning the third-floor reception desk for Bev. Christopher Fortune stood outside his office door, smiling broadly, no doubt thinking he was God’s gift to women.

Darlin’? Excuse me?

Had they somehow time traveled back to the 1960s?

“My name is Kinsley,” she said, doing her best to keep the bristle out of her voice. He may have been young and good-looking and a Fortune, but how dare he call her that?

“I know what your name is,” Christopher said.

“Then why did you call me darlin’?” She didn’t smile.

The man and woman who were with him looked a bit sheepish, perhaps a little embarrassed for him, before they ducked back inside his office. Actually, Christopher should’ve been embarrassed for himself. But did the guy do anything for himself?

The only reason he worked at the Foundation was because his uncle was James Marshall Fortune.

“Where is Betsy?” he asked

“Who is Betsy?” she returned.

“The new receptionist?” he answered with a tone better suited for talking to a small child.

Well, Mr. Man, two could play that game. “Nobody by the name of Betsy works here. Do you mean Beverly?”

Christopher shrugged. “Yes, the one who was here earlier.” He motioned to the desk where Kinsley was sitting. “Where is she?”

If Bev was smart, she’d handed in her resignation and left.

Kinsley blinked away the snotty thought. She hadn’t meant it. The Fortune Foundation was a fabulous place to work. Even though Christopher Fortune was full of himself, other members of the Fortune family had been very good to her. Not only did they pay her a decent salary to work as an outreach coordinator, a position she considered her life’s work, but also she would be forever grateful that they had taken a chance on her.

She’d come to them with little experience, having not yet earned her degree. She was working on it, but with a full-time job and going to school part-time at night, it was going to take her a while before she completed her coursework.

“I’m covering for Beverly while she’s on her break,” Kinsley said. “She should be back in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, is there something I can help you with?”

Christopher smiled and looked at her in that wolfish way he had that made her want to squirm. But she didn’t. No way. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

What was with this guy? Better question, what was with her? Kinsley had always subscribed to the Eleanor Roosevelt philosophy: nobody could make you feel anything unless you gave them permission. Actually, the quote was nobody could make you feel inferior, but this adaptation felt just as authentic.

“Yes, will you please call and make a lunch reservation for three at Red for 1:15?”

At first Kinsley thought he was kidding. But as she squinted at him, it became quite clear that he was indeed serious.

News flash! She had not been hired as Christopher Fortune’s personal secretary! And why did he want to eat at Red, of all places, today? She rarely went out to lunch, but today she had a 12:45 business lunch at the restaurant. She was meeting Meg Tyler, the Red Rock High School PTA president, to discuss the school’s Cornerstone Club, an extracurricular student leadership organization, and to talk about the role the kids could play in implementing an anti-bullying program.

For a split second, Kinsley thought about calling Meg and asking if they could change restaurants, but then quickly decided against it. She’d been looking forward to lunch at Red. Why should she deny herself her favorite Mexican place just because he was going to be there?

Yeah, what was up with that? Why was she still feeling so shy around him? He’d started working with the Foundation about two months ago. They hadn’t had much contact until recently, when Emmett Jamison had asked them to work together to establish a stronger online presence for the Foundation’s community outreach program.

Why did she allow him to make her feel twelve years old? Worse yet, why did she shrink every time Christopher walked into the room? She didn’t need his approval. So what if he was charismatic and good-looking? He skated through life on his looks and charm, much like her father had done when he was sober. At least she did her job better than he did.

Fighting the riptide of emotions that threatened to sweep her under, Kinsley stared unseeing at the notes she’d been writing before Christopher had come out of his office. She wasn’t going to allow herself to be drowned by the past. Her father had been dead for six years, and she certainly wasn’t twelve anymore. In all fairness, despite Christopher’s bravado, he really didn’t have the mean streak that had possessed her father when he had been drunk. That was when her dad had drummed it into her soul that she would never amount to anything. That she wouldn’t be good enough, strong enough, smart enough, pretty enough. No man in his right mind would ever want her.

But that was then and this was now. She was well on her way to proving him wrong. She had a good job, and she was making her own way in the world. No matter how the scarred memories of her bastard of a father tried to convince her that she would never be enough, she needed to muster the strength to exorcise his ghost and set herself free. She needed to quit projecting her father and his twisted ways onto Christopher, who, like so many other men, had a way of making her feel overlooked, dismissed.

She knew her value and what she was capable of. That was all that mattered.

Because she was sitting at the reception desk filling in for Bev, she swallowed her pride and placed the call to Red. A few minutes later, Christopher and his posse emerged from his office and made their way to the elevator. But Christopher hung back. “Thanks for taking care of my family and me, Kinsley.”

He looked her square in the eyes in that brazen way of his and flashed a smile. For a short, stupid moment part of her went soft and breathless.

“Mmm” was all she managed to say before she tore her gaze from his and he walked away to join his party.

Mmm. Not even a real word. Just an embarrassing monosyllabic grunt.

Kinsley sat at the reception desk waiting for Bev to return, pondering the shyness that always seemed to get the better of her whenever he was around.

Why?

Why did he have this effect on her?

It was because this job meant so much to her.

And maybe she found his good looks a little intimidating. But good grief.

So the guy was attractive with his perfectly chiseled features and those mile-wide broad shoulders. He had probably played football in college. One of those cocky jock types who had a harem clamoring to serve him. Not that Christopher Fortune’s personal life—past or present—was any of her business.

Kinsley blinked and mentally backed away from thoughts of her coworker. Instead, she reminded herself that she had done the right thing by taking the high road and making his darned lunch reservation rather than trying to make a point.

Looks didn’t matter. Not in her world, anyway. She had Christopher Fortune’s number. He was a handsome opportunist who was riding his family’s coattails. In the two months he’d been in the office he hadn’t done much to prove that he had high regard for the actual work they were trying to do at the Foundation.

Obviously, he didn’t get it. Guys like him never did.

But one thing she was going to make sure he understood in no uncertain terms—he’d better never call her darlin’ again or there would be hell to pay.

Chapter Two

“Oh, look at the flowers.” Angie sighed as Christopher guided her and Toby up the bougainvillea-lined path to Red.

“Just wait until you see the courtyard inside,” Christopher said with as much pride as if he were showing off his own home. “Red is built around it. There’s a fountain I think you’ll love.”