A Fortunes Of Texas Christmas. Helen Lacey
at a time, looking for her, suddenly desperate to talk to her. But, nothing. There was a small set of stairs opposite the ones he’d climbed, and he stood on the top step and looked around. Still nothing. Amersen rubbed his eyes wearily. Maybe jet lag had settled in and he’d imagined her. Maybe he was losing his mind.
“Can I help you?”
He stilled, rooted to the spot for a moment before he slowly turned on his heels. She was behind him, and he stared at her, wishing he could see all of her face beneath the brim of that hat. He got a glimpse of her chin and her luscious pink mouth and the slant of her cheeks, but it was her eyes he was suddenly desperate for. He wanted the visual connection, that first look that was a prelude to everything else. And her soft Texas drawl was unexpectedly a complete turn-on.
“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his pulse quickening. “Can you?”
* * *
Robin Harbin stared at the man in front of her, her belly dipping wildly, like she was on a theme park roller coaster going way too fast. But, boy, the man was gorgeous. Maybe the most perfectly handsome male specimen she’d ever seen. Black hair, riveting blue eyes, a strong jaw just touched with a shadow of whiskers...and a body that quickly sent her libido—and her traitorous ovaries—into serious overdrive.
Of course she knew who he was.
Amersen Beaudin.
Her employer, Kate Fortune, had mentioned him several times over the past week. A Frenchman. Someone Kate wanted to work with. And Robin’s interest had been piqued enough that she had done an internet search to find out what all the fuss was about. A couple of clicks of the mouse and she had all the intel she needed. Rich, successful and a well-documented heartless playboy. Known simply as Amersen to his trillions of followers on social media. Okay, so maybe trillions was an exaggeration...but he certainly had a lot of people wanting to hear his opinion on pretty much everything. Robin had read a few of his blog posts and had quickly formed the view that he was an overopinionated, egotistical know-it-all who, based on what she’d seen in a few videos he’d posted, clearly loved to hear the sound of his own voice. And of course, he was totally and categorically out of her league. Not that she had any thoughts about the man in that way. She didn’t know him.
But he was gorgeous.
And obviously knew it, from the way he was looking at her. As though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Irritation suddenly chugged through her veins and she dropped her chin a fraction, realizing he probably had women falling at his feet across the globe and that was why he was regarding her as though she should be looking at him like he was some kind of great prize. Which, she supposed, he was, but she certainly wasn’t going to let him think she believed that.
“Nice...dress,” he said, his lovely accent winding up her spine like liquid silk.
Robin glanced down at the white frock she’d donned half an hour earlier at Kate’s request. The gown and hat were a trial look for a new brand campaign, which found Robin being photographed in the rotunda when the usual model had called in sick earlier that afternoon. Not that she considered herself model material. She was a touch too full in the bust and too curvy in the hips for that. But Kate wanted some shots to send the marketing department at Fortune Cosmetics, and Robin was the only option at the time. The truth be told, she felt a little ridiculous in the ultrafeminine dress—jeans and cowboy boots were more her style. But Kate was her employer and friend, and she had no intention of disappointing the older woman.
“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