Falling for Fortune
Autor:in
Nancy Robards Thompson
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HarlequinChapter One
âIâm sorry, sir, Iâve checked the directory three times. Thereâs nobody by that name listed.â
Strains of the new receptionistâs voice carried in through Christopher Fortuneâs partially open door. He looked up from his in-office putting green.
What was her name again? He couldnât remember. It was only the start of her second week. Jeez, but she was shrill. Heâd have to talk to her about her tone. Not good for community relations. But first...
He realigned his stance as the golf pro had taught him, making sure that his toes were parallel to the pin at the end of the fourteen-foot portable green. He set the putter in the hollow part of his left hand and placed the right hand so that his right thumb rested on the left side of the shaft. He pulled back to take his shotâ
âSir, I donât know what else to tell you.â Now her voice was teetering on exasperation. He couldnât hear what the other person was saying, but she was giving him a headache. âWe have a Christopher Fortune, but nobody by the name of Chris Jones works here. Could he be the one youâre looking for?â
The words made Christopher hit the ball a little too hard. It rolled off the end of the green and under the coffee table that was part of the furniture grouping at the end of the room.
Who was asking for Chris Jones?
* * *
Two months ago, Chris Jones had adopted his motherâs Fortune family name and moved to Red Rock from Horseback Hollow, Texas. Heâd dropped the Jones portion of his name when heâd accepted the new job. Now, he was Christopher Fortune, vice president in charge of community relations for the Fortune Foundation.
Christopher set down his putter, walked over and fully opened his office door to see what the ruckus was about.
What the hellâ
âToby?â Christopher said flatly when he saw his brother and his new sister-in-law, Angie, standing there. âWhat are you doing here, man?â
The receptionist, a slight woman with close-cropped black hair, looked so young that she couldâve easily been mistaken for a sixteen-year-old. She turned and froze, all wide dark eyes and pale skin, when she saw Christopher.
âOh! Iâm sorry, Mr. Fortune. I didnât understand that they were looking for you. They asked for Chris Jones.â
Now she was blushing.
Christopher glanced at the name plate that was front and center on the reception desk.
âDonât worry about it, Beverly. Itâs fine.â
âHey, little brother,â Toby said, extending a hand. âGood to see you.â
Christopher shook Tobyâs hand. His brother immediately pulled him into an awkward hold that their sister, Stacey, was fond of calling a man hug: a greeting that started as a handshake and ended with the guys leaning in and stiffly slapping each other on the back a couple of times.
When they broke apart, Christopher stepped back, reclaiming his dignity just in time to see both elevator doors open and Kinsley Aaron, the Foundationâs outreach coordinator, step into the reception area.
Her long, straight blond hair hung loose around her shoulders, framing her pretty face. God, she was gorgeous, even if she was a little too uptight for his taste. He straightened his tie and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to right what Tobyâs enthusiastic bear hug had mussed.
Kinsley had the bluest eyes heâd ever seen. Those eyes were two of the reasons he always remembered her name. Although, the dowdy way she dressed wasnât much of an enticement. He couldnât figure out why such a beauty chose to dress like a schoolmarm. She always covered up as much of herself as possible. Didnât she know her modesty only made him daydream about the gifts that were undoubtedly hidden beneath all that wrapping?
As Kinsley approached Beverlyâs desk, she arched a brow at him. For a split second he couldâve sworn sheâd read his mind. But he knew it was a ridiculous thought. She was probably just curious about Toby and Angie, since she tended to take her job so seriously. After all, this was an office where visitors generally came seeking help, something that typically fell into her community outreach division.
Before Kinsley could start asking questions, Christopher turned to his brother and sister-in-law. âWhy donât we go into my office? We can talk in there.â
He made quick work of ushering them out of the reception area. This sure as hell wasnât the most ideal time or place for a family reunion. Especially when he was determined to keep his life in Horseback Hollow worlds apart from the new life heâd created for himself in Red Rock.
Before he shut the door, he cast one last glance back at Kinsley, who was still lingering by Bevâs desk. They locked gazes, and Christopher felt that old familiar zing that always happened when he looked into those eyes. The virtual vibration lasted even after she looked away.
And she was always the first one to look away.
He was pondering that when Toby said, âSince you were too darned busy to come home for the wedding, I decided Iâd bring my beautiful bride to see you. Angie, youâve met Chris before. Chris, this is my wife. Can you believe it?â he said, grinning. âI have a wife.â
âGood to see you again, Angie,â Christopher said, keeping his tone all business and shaking Angieâs hand.
âSo, they call you Mr. Fortune around here?â Toby asked, a note of good-natured ribbing in his voice. But before Christopher could answer, Toby let loose a low whistle as he glanced around Christopherâs new digs. âWould you look at this fancy place? I guess youâre doing all right for yourself, little brother.â
âItâs a pretty sweet gig,â Christopher said. âActually, I wanted to work directly for Uncle James at JMF Financial, but how could I argue after I found out that heâd created a position just for me? Iâm sure he could do something for you if you want. All you have to do is ask.â
What Christopher didnât say was that the work was a little boring and âdo-gooderâ for his taste. But the salary they were paying him, which was commensurate with the Fortune name rather than his experience, more than made up for the lack of excitement.
If Christopher had learned one thing over the past two months it was that he had to create his own excitement, ensure his own future. It wasnât as if heâd been blazing trails in Horseback Hollow. Nope, back home, heâd been bored and broke.
And a nobody.
Now he had a job that people respected and the bank account to go with it. So he figured why not go for the trifecta and take on the Fortune name? It was his birthright, after all, even if his old man would be mad as hell when he found out.
But those were the breaks, werenât they? His father Dekeâs attitude was one of the things that had driven Christopher to Red Rock in the first place. Once he was settled, heâd gone to court and filed a petition to change his name. Once the judge had signed the order, Christopher Fortune said Hasta la vista, baby to Chris Jones and Horseback Hollow and claimed what was rightfully his.
Christopher glanced around his office, trying to see it through Tobyâs eyes. The Fortune Foundation had been founded in memory of Lily Cassidy Fortuneâs late husband, Ryan Fortune, who had died of a brain tumor nine years ago. The Foundation had started out in a small storefront on Main Street in downtown Red Rock but had since expanded and was now located in a stately three-story brick building just outside of town. Christopher had one of the corner offices with rich polished mahogany architectural wall paneling on the wallsâor at least the ones that didnât have floor-to-ceiling windows with a to-die-for view of the local landscape. His traditional executiveâs desk and credenza still left enough room for the putting green, two chairs and a couch that were grouped conversation-style around a coffee table.
Hell, his office was bigger than his old studio apartment back in Horseback Hollow.
He directed Toby and Angie over to the couch. Until now, he hadnât even tried out the officeâs living room furniture.
âI just canât get over the change in you,â Toby said.
Christopher turned to Angie, who was still as pretty as she had been in high school with her light brown hair, blue eyes and delicate features. His brother had done well catching her. Heâd tell him so later if they had a private moment. But just as the thought crossed his mind, it was overshadowed by the hope that the newlyweds werenât planning an extended visit in Red Rock. Christopher had work to do.
He hoped this visit wasnât because Deke had sent Toby to do his dirty work. If any of his family got him it was Toby. But it would be just like Deke to send one of Christopherâs brothers to hassle him.
But right now, Toby was talking to Angie. âThe Chris I knew never wore anything but jeans and boots. I donât know who this suit is standing in front of me with those shiny pointy-toed shoes. How many crocodiles had to die to make those shoes?â
Christopher laughed, but it was a dry, humorless sound. âTheyâre not made out of crocodile,â Christopher said.
âIt was a joke, Chris.â Toby frowned. âNo offense, but youâre even acting differently. Just remember, I know where you came from.â
Awkward silence the likes of which he had never known with Toby hung in the air. He didnât want to fight with him, and it seemed every time he opened his mouth he said the wrong thing.
That was the story of his life when it came to family. But Christopher wasnât about to sit here in his own office and let family drag him down to feeling bad.
âHow was the wedding?â Christopher asked, hoping for neutral ground. He directed the question to Angie, who had been remarkably quiet.
âI would say it was the happiest day of my life, but each day I wake up seems to take that title,â she said. âWe wish you couldâve been there.â
âYeah, well, itâs better that I didnât come. That way the focus was on the two of you. All sunshine and happiness. No dark clouds, you know?â
Angie looked at him with big blue eyes.
âWell, we certainly did appreciate your generous gift. A thousand dollars was...â Angie shook her head as if at a loss for words.
âIt was too much,â said Toby as he leaned forward and plucked a business card out of a brass holder sitting on the coffee table. âTen crisp $100 bills. Leave it to my little brother not to miss an opportunity to show offâ Wait. Christopher Fortune?â he read aloud from the business card. âDid they forget to print your entire last name on here?â
âNo,â said Christopher.
Toby held up the card. âWhereâs the Jones?â
Christopher shrugged, but didnât feel the need to explain himself.
âSo, thatâs why the receptionist was having a hard time helping us.â Toby gestured with his thumb toward the reception area. âItâs true, then? They donât even know who Chris Jones is?â
âDonât take it personally, Toby,â Christopher said. âI just needed to make a fresh start.â
âHow can I not take it personally? I mean, I get that you and Dad donât see eye to eye on your moving to Red Rock and working here at the Foundation, but come on, Chris. What the hell? Arenât you taking this a little too far?â
âIs that a question or an accusation?â Christopher challenged, holding his brotherâs gaze until Toby leaned forward again and put the card back where heâd found it.
This life was exactly what he wanted.
He wanted what the Fortunes had: money, power, respect. He had gotten none of that back in Horseback Hollow. What was wrong with claiming it now?
âI figure the family canât be any more disappointed in me now than theyâve always been. I never was any good to anyone around the ranch, anyway. Donât you think theyâd consider the new and improved Christopher Fortune a vast improvement over Chris Jones, the son who couldnât do anything right?â
Toby looked down at his hands, then back up at Christopher. A somber expression crept into his eyes. âI donât even know what to say to that, except that Mom asked me to tell you she loves you.â
Touché.
That was just about the only thing that Toby couldâve said to hit Christopher where heâd feel it.
The thing was, he didnât even sound mad. Just...disappointed. A look that said, remember where you came from and donât let the Fortunes change you into something youâre not.
He hadnât forgotten and the Fortunes hadnât changed him. He would be the first to admit that embracing the Fortunesâ 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 executiveâs office or at his bank account balance, it got easier and easier.
âYâall must be hungry,â Christopher said. âCome on, letâs go get a bite to eat. Iâll treat you to lunch.â
* * *
âExcuse me, darlinâ.â 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 Godâs gift to women.
Darlinâ? Excuse me?
Had they somehow time traveled back to the 1960s?
âMy name is Kinsley,â 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?
âI know what your name is,â Christopher said.
âThen why did you call me darlinâ?â She didnât 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 shouldâve 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.
âWhere is Betsy?â he asked
âWho is Betsy?â she returned.
âThe new receptionist?â he answered with a tone better suited for talking to a small child.
Well, Mr. Man, two could play that game. âNobody by the name of Betsy works here. Do you mean Beverly?â
Christopher shrugged. âYes, the one who was here earlier.â He motioned to the desk where Kinsley was sitting. âWhere is she?â
If Bev was smart, sheâd handed in her resignation and left.
Kinsley blinked away the snotty thought. She hadnât 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 lifeâs work, but also she would be forever grateful that they had taken a chance on her.
Sheâd 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.
âIâm covering for Beverly while sheâs on her break,â Kinsley said. âShe should be back in about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, is there something I can help you with?â
Christopher smiled and looked at her in that wolfish way he had that made her want to squirm. But she didnât. No way. She wouldnât 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.
âYes, will you please call and make a lunch reservation for three at Red for 1:15?â
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 Fortuneâs 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 schoolâs 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. Sheâd 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? Heâd started working with the Foundation about two months ago. They hadnât had much contact until recently, when Emmett Jamison had asked them to work together to establish a stronger online presence for the Foundationâs 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 didnât 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 sheâd been writing before Christopher had come out of his office. She wasnât going to allow herself to be drowned by the past. Her father had been dead for six years, and she certainly wasnât twelve anymore. In all fairness, despite Christopherâs bravado, he really didnât 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 wouldnât 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. âThanks for taking care of my family and me, Kinsley.â
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.
âMmmâ 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 Fortuneâs personal lifeâpast or presentâwas 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 didnât matter. Not in her world, anyway. She had Christopher Fortuneâs number. He was a handsome opportunist who was riding his familyâs coattails. In the two months heâd been in the office he hadnât done much to prove that he had high regard for the actual work they were trying to do at the Foundation.
Obviously, he didnât get it. Guys like him never did.
But one thing she was going to make sure he understood in no uncertain termsâheâd better never call her darlinâ again or there would be hell to pay.
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