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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.”
“I’m a proud Texan native,” she told him, hitching a thumb at herself. “Go Longhorns. Keep Austin weird.”
“Remember the Alamo,” he added.
She giggled. “Exactly.”
“What are you studying?” He tapped a finger on the pile of notes in front of her.
“Accounting,” she said with a sigh. “I have a test tomorrow and it took everything I had to pull out an A last semester. This class is going to kill me.”
“Not going for a finance degree, I take it?”
“I’m a business major with a concentration in marketing. It’s not that I don’t like accounting...”
He nodded. “Because most people find it fascinating.”
She laughed again. For all her nerves around Keaton, it was also surprisingly easy to laugh with him. It had been a long time since Francesca had joked around with a man, other than her customers at the diner.
“I’m not sure fascinating is the right word,” she answered, “but the truth is math and I don’t always get along.” She pointed a finger at him. “I bet you’re a math whiz.”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I do use dimensions, quantities, area and other math-based principles in my work, as they relate to spatial thinking and patterns.” He took a breath then gave her another lopsided smile. “From mummy’s boy to architecture geek. I’m not doing a bang-up job of impressing you, am I?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered, because Keaton uttering building terms had the same effect on her body as another man whispering love words.
“Are you far along in your coursework?”
A familiar twinge of regret zipped across her stomach. “I’m in my second year,” she told him. “I took some time off after high school to...travel.”
“Visit any interesting places?”
She didn’t think the backstage area of every seedy concert venue between Austin and Los Angeles was what he had in mind, so she only shook her head. “Nothing worth mentioning.” She took another drink then idly flipped through her study guide. “I’m sorry to say my study break should probably be over now. I really do need to be ready for tomorrow morning.”
Was that a look of disappointment that darkened his eyes for a brief moment?
“Thank you again for coming to my rescue tonight.”
“No problem. I’m sure your project is going to be great,” she answered.
“Would you like an early view of the plans sometime?”
She swallowed. This was her chance. Say something witty. Something flirty and cute. “Sure,” she answered on a squeak. Okay, that was pathetic.
Keaton didn’t seem to notice. “Good luck with your test tomorrow.”
She blew out a breath and tucked a stray curl behind one ear. “I’m going to need it.”
He slid to the edge of the booth like he was going to ease himself out then stopped. “I could help you study,” he offered suddenly. “Quiz you on concepts and such?”
Francesca felt her mouth drop open. “Really? Because I’m sure you have someplace better to be.” Obviously he was being kind, but she didn’t want him to feel obliged to sit with her. Despite being her best friend, Ciara had made it clear on several occasions how boring Francesca was when she studied.
“I have no plans and there’s still...” He glanced at his watch then back at her. “Over an hour until the diner closes.” He moved back to the center of the bench seat. “It’ll be fun.”
“You must have a strange definition of fun in England.” She handed him a stack of notecards. “But I can use all the help I can get. Thank you.”
He asked the first question and Francesca couldn’t hide her smile. Maybe if principles of accounting were spoken in a British accent, she’d enjoy the class more. She made a mental note to buy handsome men slices of pie more often. Already this was the best study session she’d ever had.
Chapter Three (#u404d3f7b-2392-5a2b-ab81-f7edb74d03d9)
Keaton walked toward the restaurant in downtown Austin where he’d agreed to meet Ben for lunch the next afternoon. The sidewalk was filled with men and women from all different walks of life. There were corporate types in expensive suits hurrying to and from meetings and power lunches that reminded him of being on the streets in London. Although Austin didn’t have the same Wild West atmosphere as Houston or Dallas, he still saw plenty of cowboy boots and Wrangler jeans mixed in with the trendy and somewhat casual style favored by most people in the city. It still felt a world away from the quirky neighborhood that housed his latest project and the casual restaurant that was quickly becoming his home away from home.
He’d thought about inviting Ben to Lola May’s, but for some reason Keaton wanted to keep the little gem of a diner to himself. It probably had something to do with retaining a bit of his anonymity, or at least keeping the focus on his work or even his accent, and not the craziness that came with being a Fortune.
Growing up in London, Keaton understood that people went a bit wacky for the royals and the Fortunes were their own version of an American royal family. They were particularly well known in Texas. Last year cosmetics mogul Kate Fortune had appointed Keaton’s half brother, Graham Fortune Robinson, as CEO of Fortune Cosmetics. That bit of news, coupled with the earlier revelation that Gerald Robinson was really Jerome Fortune, meant a brighter spotlight continued to shine on the branch of the Fortune family from Austin.
It was still an adjustment to be recognized as a Fortune when Keaton had been raised so differently from his half siblings. He liked that the staff and other customers at Lola May’s had quickly accepted him as a regular. Since it was just him and his mother growing up, Keaton appreciated any time he could be a part of a bigger community, even the casual kind at Lola May’s.
It was a far cry from the night clubs and swanky house parties he was used to back in London and it seemed to fuel his creative side as well as his spirit. He’d stayed up late last night redesigning the residential section that would become the second phase of the Austin Commons project based on feedback he’d received from the development company’s CEO. In addition to the brownstones and smaller apartments, he’d added an inner courtyard that could function as a community gathering space.
Many of the changes centered around an open-air design with shade pavilions to take advantage of the mild temperatures in Austin. Granted, he had yet to live through a Texas summer, but he was definitely enjoying the fact that he could be out in just a shirt in January.
He’d spoken to his mother just yesterday, and she’d told him it had rained in London every day since the new year began. Keaton lifted his face to the bright Texas sun and was grateful for the warmth on his skin.
Almost as grateful as he was to the obnoxious local at the diner last night who’d given him an earful of grief. Listening to that blighter was a small price to pay for finally getting an opportunity to talk to Francesca Harriman.
At first she’d been as skittish as one of the colts on Graham’s ranch outside of town. The pink that had tinged her cheeks when she’d mentioned his accent was adorable. It was a strange thing, the way American women got so flustered when he spoke. But he had to admit he’d placed an extra emphasis on rounding his vowels and making his voice a bit more clipped when speaking to Francesca just to elicit a reaction from her.
It seemed only fair given the way she made him feel as nervous as a schoolboy with his first crush. He would have been content to sit and stare at her all night long. From a distance it was difficult to notice anything except her riot of blond curls and that luscious figure. Up close he realized her features were quite delicate, from her caramel-colored eyes with flecks of gold dancing through them to her high cheekbones and rosebud mouth.
More surprising was how much he’d enjoyed simply talking to Francesca once they’d each acclimated to the other. He could tell she didn’t even realize how appealing she was with her humor and gentle teasing. He was used to women who played games by volleying veiled sexual innuendoes and flirting outrageously. Francesca was wholly real, and helping her study for her test had been the most fun he’d had in ages.
If only he’d had a study partner like Francesca when he’d been at university. Scratch that. He would have spent far too much time watching her nibble on her bottom lip, something she did when concentrating and one more thing about her that drove him absolutely wild.
“Who is she?”
Keaton stopped as his half brother Ben Fortune Robinson stepped in front of him on the sidewalk. He was surprised to realize he’d made it to the restaurant, as he’d been oblivious to any thoughts except those of Francesca.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “I’ve got work on the brain.”
Although they had different mothers, Keaton looked enough like the Robinson twins, Wes and Ben, to make it clear to any stranger that he was related. Ben had come to London last year after his sister Rachel had revealed that Gerald Robinson was truly Jerome Fortune and the eight legitimate Robinson children might have other half siblings they didn’t know from their father’s various short-lived affairs over the years. Keaton had never known his father but the photo that Ben had of Gerald showed the same man from the photo Keaton’s mother kept hidden in her dresser drawer. The man who had broken her heart.
It had been a shock for Keaton to discover he was part of such a large and famous family, but he was determined to track down the rest of the children Gerald had left in his wake.
Ben was now happily married to Ella, who he’d hired to help him track down Keaton and other possible siblings. The happy couple was expecting their first baby in the next few weeks, which meant that in the course of one short year, Keaton had gone from an only child to a brother and soon-to-be uncle.
He held the door of the cafe open for Ben, who leveled a knowing look at him. “Give me a break,” Ben said before greeting the hostess by name. As the young woman led them to a table in the back, Ben continued to goad him. “If designing a building puts that cow-eyed look on your face, you definitely need to get out more.”
“I don’t know what kind of cows you have in Texas,” Keaton shot back, “but I’m not one of them.”
Obviously listening to their conversation, the hostess gave him a strange, assessing smile as they sat and she handed them menus.
