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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.”
Angie stopped. “Red?”
“Yes, that’s the name of the restaurant.” Christopher gestured to the tile nameplate attached to the wall just outside the door, which he held open as he tried to usher them inside, but Angie stopped.
“Is this the same Red that’s owned by the Mendozas?” Angie asked.
“One and the same,” Christopher said.
“Wendy and Marcos Mendoza catered our wedding reception.” Angie sighed again as she looked around, taking it all in. “They have to be two of the nicest people I’ve ever met.” She turned to Toby. “I can’t believe we’re here. Chris, did you plan this?”
He wished he could take credit for it, but until now, he’d had no idea what had taken place at their wedding. He’d been so intent on staying away to avoid clouding their day with bad vibes that he hadn’t realized he didn’t know the first thing about the event other than the fact that his brother had taken himself a bride.
Regret knotted in his gut.
“The Mendozas catered your wedding?” Christopher asked.
“Yes, they did a beautiful job,” Angie said. “Everything was delicious. Oh, I hope that chicken mole they served at the reception is on the menu. I’ve been dreaming of it ever since.”
A twinge of disappointment wove itself around the regret. Christopher knew it was totally irrational, but he had brought them here because he’d wanted to introduce them to something new, something from his world that he had discovered. Yet by a strange twist of small-world fate, Red was old news to them.
“This place is so beautiful,” Angie cooed. “I could live here quite comfortably.”
“I’ll bet we could.” Toby beamed at his wife. His love for her was written all over his face. Watching the two of them so deeply in love blunted the edges of Christopher’s disappointment. He wasn’t surprised that Toby had settled down. Of all of his siblings, Toby had been the one who was the most family oriented, especially after taking in the three Hemings kids. He was happy for his brother and Angie. He hoped things worked out and that they would be able to adopt the kids. But although Christopher looked forward to being an uncle, he couldn’t imagine any other kind of life than the one he was living now.
On their way to lunch Christopher had seized the opportunity to show off his new town and lifestyle. He’d loaded the newlyweds into his spankin’ new BMW and given them the fifty cent tour of downtown Red Rock.
Although there were certainly fancier restaurants in town, none spoke to Christopher quite the way Red did. Obviously the Mendoza appeal wasn’t restricted to Red Rock, since Toby and Angie seemed to love their food as much as he did.
Christopher held open the door as Angie and Toby stepped inside. He breathed in deeply as he followed them. It smelled damn good...of fresh corn tortillas, chilies and spices. There was something about the mix of old and new that appealed to him. The restaurant was housed in a converted hacienda that had once been owned by a Spanish family rumored to have been related to Mexican dignitary Antonio López de Santa Ana. Santa Ana was known as the Napoleon of the West. Christopher had recently learned that the current owners of the property, Jose and Maria Mendoza, had been fortunate to purchase the house and land at an affordable price before anyone realized its historical significance. The place couldn’t have been in better hands because the Mendozas had given the place its due reverence. That was especially true after the restaurant had been largely destroyed by an arson fire in 2009. Luckily, the family rebuilt and reopened after several months and had been going strong ever since.
Inside, the restaurant was decorated with antiques, paintings and memorabilia that dated all the way back to 1845 when President James Polk named Texas the twenty-eighth state of the Union.
In college, Christopher had complemented his business major with a history minor. So it was only natural that he liked the place for its history.
But the food...he loved the place for its food.
Red offered a mouthwatering selection of nouveau Mexican cuisine. The chef had a talent for taking traditional dishes such as huevos rancheros, the chicken mole that Angie was so crazy about and tamales, and sending them to new heights using fresh twists on old classics. The menu was bright and vibrant, familiar yet new and exciting.
Christopher had experienced nothing like it in Horseback Hollow. His mother, Jeanne Marie, was a great cook, but her repertoire was more of the meat and potatoes/comfort food variety. The food at Red was an exotic and surprising twist on traditional Mexican.
The chef was always coming up with new specials of the day and anytime Christopher was in, he asked him to taste test and share his opinion. Christopher loved being able to offer his input.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Fortune,” said the hostess. “We’re so glad you chose to join us for lunch today. Come right this way. Your favorite table is ready.”
The shapely brunette shot Christopher a sexy smile before she turned, hips swaying, as she led the three of them to an aged pine table next to a large window where they could enjoy the comfort of the air-conditioning, but still look out at the well-landscaped courtyard. As far as Christopher was concerned, it was the best seat in the house.
After they were settled, the hostess handed each of them a menu. “Enjoy your lunch, and please let me know if you need anything.”
She winked at Christopher before she turned to make her way back to the hostess station.
That was quite obvious of her, Christopher thought as he watched her walk away on her high-high heels with the grace and assurance of a tightrope walker. Her skirt was just short enough to draw the eye down to her firm, tanned calves. Now, that was a woman who knew how to dress. Unlike Kinsley, who hid herself under all that heavy tweed fabric that left her looking buttoned-up and shapeless. What a shame.
Suddenly, seeing Kinsley in a skirt and heels like that became his new fantasy.
“I see you come here for the good service,” Toby said, a knowing glint in his eye.
“Of course.” As Christopher turned back to his brother and Angie, a blonde caught his eye. She was was seated at a table to their left—and he couldn’t help noticing that she resembled Kinsley—
Wait, that is Kinsley.
She was dining with a woman he didn’t recognize. He had a view of Kinsley’s profile. If she just turned her head ever so slightly to the right she would see him, but she seemed engrossed in her conversation. Just as he was contemplating getting up and going over to say hello, her server brought their food.
She must have gotten here before him and ordered already. Besides, he, Toby and Angie had just sat down. They hadn’t even placed their drink order. He would wait.
When she’d made his reservation she hadn’t mentioned that she’d be dining here herself, even though she knew he was going to be here right around the same time. Maybe she was afraid that he would think she was angling for an invite to join them. Most of the women he knew wouldn’t have been shy about doing that. But Kinsley was different. Quiet, understated, more conservative.
She was a refreshing change from all the other women he’d met since he’d been in Red Rock. And there had been more than a few. Most of them were sassy and assertive, not at all afraid to reach out and let him know exactly what they wanted and how they wanted it. None of them was a keeper, either. They were all nice and fun, of course, but they left him wanting.
Kinsley, on the other hand, was a puzzle, and most definitely, he realized as he was sitting there, one he was interested in trying to solve.
Hmm. Why had he never thought about her like that before? He’d always thought she was pretty, and on occasion he’d tried to flirt with her, but until right now, he’d never really thought about what made her tick.
As if she felt him watching her, she glanced his way, and their gazes snared. He waved and she lifted a finger before turning her attention back to her lunch companion.
Despite this strange new Kinsley-awareness coursing through him, Christopher decided he should do the same and turned his focus to his brother and Angie. But pushing her from his mind was harder than he had expected.
The view of the courtyard helped. It was spectacular, with colorful Talavera tiles scattered here and there on the stucco walls, Mexican fan trees and more thriving bougainvillea that seemed to be blooming overtime today in a riot of hot pink, purple and gold. But even the crowning glory of the stately, large fountain in the center of the courtyard couldn’t keep Christopher’s gaze from wandering over Kinsley’s way.
“Too bad we couldn’t sit outside,” Toby said.
If the temperature wasn’t pushing ninety, Christopher would’ve insisted that they sit out by the fountain. Even though the outside tables were shaded by colorful umbrellas, the humidity was a killer. He didn’t want to sweat through his suit and then go back to work.
Not the image he wanted to portray, he thought, glancing at Kinsley.
“Is this okay?” he asked Toby and Angie. “We could move, but it’s a killer out there.”
“No, this is so lovely,” said Angie. “I want to stay right here.”
Before she could say more, Marcos Mendoza, the manager of Red, appeared at their table.
“Christopher Fortune, my man.” Marcos and Christopher shook hands. “It’s great to see you.”
“You, too,” said Christopher. “My brother Toby and his wife, Angie, are visiting. I couldn’t let them leave Red Rock without dining at Red.”
“Well, if it isn’t the newlyweds.” Marcos leaned in and kissed Angie on the cheek then shook Toby’s hand. He hooked a thumb in Christopher’s direction. “This guy is your brother?”
“Yep, I’ll claim him,” Toby said without a second’s hesitation. His brother’s conviction caused Christopher’s heart to squeeze ever so slightly, but he did a mental two-step away from the emotion and everything else it implied: the problems between him and Deke; the way he’d left home; the fact that he’d allowed all the ugliness to cause him to miss his own brother’s wedding.
“Christopher here is one of our best customers,” Marcos said. “I can’t believe I didn’t put two and two together and figure out that the two of you were related. But different last names?”
