Fortune's Secret Heir Read online

  And she was wearing a Mickey Mouse watch.

  “Use the Bushmills,” he advised. “Two bottles to your right. There. The twenty-one year.” Some might consider using that fine a whiskey in a cocktail a waste, but Ben took perverse pleasure in doing so.

  The bartender sent him a grateful smile and plucked the bottle from its neighbors, turning back to face him and the bar again. Her cheeks were a little flushed, her guileless blue eyes chagrined. “I don’t usually tend bar,” she admitted softly. “I was actually supposed to be doing valet tonight but the usual bartender had a family emergency. I’ve done all sorts of things for the temp agency, but this one is new territory. Please don’t hold that against anyone but me.”

  It had been too long since he’d been amused by anything a female said, redheaded or not, and he leaned his elbow on the bar and watched her slender fingers uncap the bottle, trying not to imagine how their light touch would feel. “Like the host? Is she as terrifying as everyone claims?”

  The girl’s eyes met his for a millisecond before flitting away. “I haven’t met her, actually. I just meant—” she lifted a shoulder left bare by her dress and the long tail of her ponytail slid behind her back “—you know. The catering company hired for the party.”

  It was clear as day that she didn’t have a clue what to do with the whiskey. He could have taken pity and told her to just pour him a shot and be done with it. Whiskey like that was meant to be sipped, anyway. Perhaps with a drop of water, but nothing else. Or he could have changed his order to a beer; there was a healthy display of good labels on that score, too.

  “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her. He reached across the bar top and picked up a clean pilsner glass. “This’ll do to mix it in. Fill it with ice.”

  Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass and she sucked in her full lower lip, leaning to one side to scoop ice from some hidden source beneath the bar into the glass. He dragged his eyes away from the smooth skin of her throat, revealed when her collar pulled slightly to one side.

  “Now a shot of whiskey,” he directed when she straightened and looked expectantly at him again. “Half as much of vermouth. Dry.”

  That bottle she clearly knew.

  “Dash of bitters.” He pointed and she quickly reached.

  “Now stir. Gently,” he added, reaching over to guide her hand. Her gaze met his again in a here-and-gone second and the long crystal stirrer she’d snatched up immediately slowed.

  He smiled slightly and let go of her hand.

  “I use a martini glass, right?”

  “Right. Just strain out the ice.” He glanced over his shoulder, surveying the room quickly to verify he wasn’t missing anything or anyone. When he looked back, she was pouring the last drop into the glass. “And a lemon twist.”

  She quickly dropped a curl of lemon rind inside the cocktail and set the glass atop a small napkin in front of him. “My first Manhattan.”

  He lifted the glass. “Firsts are always memorable.”

  Her eyes skated over his again and her cheeks went red. He reminded himself that she wasn’t responsible for the animosity he’d developed of late to women in general, and he lifted the glass in a silent toast before moving away a few feet. The spot he left was soon filled with more customers, most of whom didn’t request anything more complicated than wine. White. Red. An occasional gin and tonic. Even though he found himself lingering, she was more than capable of dealing with the requests.

  Pretty soon, that line dwindled, too, and Ben’s Manhattan was rapidly becoming a memory. There was a quartet of musicians playing old standards and the small clusters of party guests were migrating, growing larger as more family connections were drawn and discovered.

  His lips tightened and he turned away from the sight, his focus colliding with the pretty bartender, who jumped guiltily as if she’d been caught staring.

  In appearance and apparent guilelessness, she seemed the antithesis of the women with whom he’d been dealing lately, and he exhaled, giving up the notion of disinterest. He finished off the drink and headed back to the bar.

  Her eyes followed the glass when he set it, empty, in front of her. “Would you like another, sir?”

  He had a company of people who called him “sir.” “Call me Ben.”

  Her eyes flicked up to his and her lips pressed softly together.

  “And no,” he answered. “But I’ll take a mineral water.”

  She leaned sideways again and retrieved a small bottle, which she opened and poured the contents into a clean glass. She set it atop a fresh cocktail napkin and began sliding it toward him. “Firsts might be memorable, but I guess they’re not always successful.”

  He wrapped his hand around the highball glass before she could withdraw her hand, and his fingers brushed hers. “The Manhattan was perfect,” he assured. “But I’m driving.” It was only an excuse. He wanted his head clear for an entirely different purpose.

  “The party’s expected to last hours.”

  He leaned his elbow on the bar again. “What else do you know about the party?”

  Her gaze flicked past him, then back again. “Nothing, sir.”

  “Ben,” he reminded her.

  The corners of her full lips twitched. “Sir,” she repeated.

  He felt his own lips twitch despite himself. “Name badges tonight seem reserved for guests. What’s your name?”

  “Ella Thomas.”

  “How old are you, Ella Thomas?”

  Her full lips parted a little in apparent surprise. She had the faintest of spaces between her perfectly white two front teeth. It added a distinct interest to an already interesting face. Her brows were dark slashes above those translucent blue eyes; her nose was a little long and her smile was disproportionately wide.

  Interesting. Mesmerizing.

  If he’d been interested in being interested, of course.

  “We’re not really supposed to fraternize with the guests,” she was saying.

  “No problem.” He gestured at his name-tag-free lapel. “Not a guest. On the job.” He stuck his hand across the bar toward her. “Ben Robinson. Robinson Tech.” It was strange using the name. As recently as a few months ago, the company had still been called Robinson Computers.

  Such was progress.

  And regardless of the new moniker, Ella’s lush lips parted even more, clearly recognizing both the company name and his.

  Without seeming to realize she’d done so, she placed her hand in his. “You’re the COO,” she said faintly. “My brother was just reading an article about your company in Wired. He’s a, um, a computer fiend.” She seemed to realize he was still clasping her hand and quickly tugged it free.

  “And you? What are you a fiend about?”

  Her dark lashes dropped and she shook her head, smiling slightly. “Nothing except finishing school.”

  God help him. “High school?”

  At that, she looked up again, a little outraged. “I’m twenty-three!” She shook her head. “College, of course.”

  Still, God help him. He had ten years on her. “What are you studying?”

  “Accounting.”

  “Dry, dry, dry.”

  “Some might say that about computer technology, too.”

  “Computers make the world go ’round.”

  “And that all started out based on two little numbers,” she returned immediately. “Zero and one. Both of which have existed long, long before computers.”

  He realized he was smiling. “So what else do you do besides study zeroes and ones, and fill in at the last minute for missing bartenders?”

  Her smooth cheeks flushed again, which only made her blue eyes bluer. “Not much. There’s just my mom and my brother and me. I pick up as much temp work as I can to pay tuition. It’s
one of the reasons why it’s taking me this long to get my degree. Never enough time or money in the day. I can only manage school part-time.”

  Ben and his brothers and sisters had been raised with every conceivable advantage. It was the one luxury of being Gerald Robinson’s offspring. They’d never once had to worry about earning money to pay tuition. Or anything else, for that matter.

  But when it came to other things? Their genius father was predictable in only one thing: being unpredictable.

  The latest of which was the reason for Ben’s presence at this damned fete of La Queen Fortune’s in the first place.

  “Are you all right?” Ella was looking at him, her dark brows pulling slightly together.

  He nodded and looked away from her to face the rest of the room, where a hum of excitement was suddenly filling the air.

  The hostess herself had finally made her appearance.

  And even if her identity wasn’t a surprise to Ben, it was clear by the whispers flying around the room that it was to all the legitimate guests there.

  The pictures he’d seen of her had told him she was small and slim. But in person, dressed in a pale silver suit with diamond jewelry glinting under the light, she seemed even more so. Then she spread her arms and smiled as brilliantly as her jewels, and her commanding voice filled the hall as the music died away.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the Silver Spur Ranch and my ninetieth birthday celebration. I am Kate Fortune.”

  All around Ben, the whispers went up a notch. Someone even gasped.

  Kate Fortune.

  Billionaire. Head of the internationally successful Fortune Cosmetics.

  And, Ben thought bitterly, the self-proclaimed matriarch of the vast and widespread Fortune clan.

  “Talk about a walking advertisement for Fortune’s Youth Serum,” Ella murmured behind him.

  On that score, Ella was dead-on. Because even though Kate herself had just confessed her age, she looked a good twenty years younger. Maybe more.

  The hostess was still smiling vivaciously. “I cannot express how much I appreciate everyone’s willingness to overlook a bit of...vagueness...and join my husband, Sterling, and me here tonight.”

  Only then did Ben notice the older, distinguished-looking man standing off to one side of the petite powerhouse. He was smiling, but his gaze was unquestionably watchful.

  “But as I said, I’m celebrating ninety years on this earth, and I thought it was high time that I do that with all of the Fortune family around me. Since so many of you seem to have found your way to Texas, it seemed only sensible that I find my way here, too.” She laughed lightly. “And I must admit that is no hardship, since spending January in Austin, Texas, provides a much friendlier climate at this time of year than my home in Minnesota.”

  Ben’s fingers tightened around his glass.

  Kate was stepping farther into the room. “Please, everyone. Take a seat.” She gestured at the expensively laid-out tables around her, and those who’d still been standing found their way to empty seats.

  Ben didn’t bother. He hadn’t been on the guest list to begin with, so there was no fancily prepared card marking a spot for him.

  When the sounds of chair legs scraping on marble finally subsided, Kate clasped her hands in front of her. “That’s so much better, isn’t it?” Her smile took in everyone with a skill that Ben could almost admire. “It’s a regret of mine that there hasn’t been more contact among our families over the years.” She gestured toward a table to her right. “John Michael, you’ve no excuse, either,” she said lightly. “You own a good portion of the telecommunications in this great country of ours. You, too, could have picked up a phone.”

  Laughter skittered across the room, though as far as Ben could tell, John Michael didn’t show a helluva lot of humor over it.

  And if Kate noticed, she didn’t show it as she looked next to her left. “And Lily, darling, it’s been much too long since I’ve seen you. Ryan was still with us, then. Such a tragedy to lose him.”

  The striking woman Kate was addressing was nodding. “He was a good man,” she agreed.

  “And I can’t tell you how much I’ve admired the work you’ve all done with the Fortune Foundation since his death. Ryan’s memory truly lives on throughout all of Texas in the foundation’s good works. But—” Kate’s smile turned humorous “—I know you’ve also learned what I learned many years ago. That the heart has no age. And you found happiness again with William, just as I found it with my Sterling.” Her gaze encompassed the room again. “I could go on and on, but none of you want to sit here and listen to an old woman talk forever. As your invitations indicated, this isn’t merely a one-night party. We’ll have ample time at the events over the next several days to get to know one another—either again, or for the first time. And I cannot tell you how happy that makes me. Because beyond all of the successes I have seen in my lifetime, I know that family is the most important thing there is.”

  Ben buried his grimace in the glass he lifted to his lips.

  “But as my husband and my children would be the first to attest, I don’t do anything without reason,” Kate continued. “And I want to ensure the success of my legacy for the future generations of this great Fortune family we all share.”

  She slowly made her way around the tables. “And the first step in that direction is by choosing someone from among you to take the helm of part of Fortune Cosmetics.” She patted the air soothingly at the shocked eruption that ensued. “It doesn’t matter your background,” she said. “I don’t care if you are Harvard-educated or if you’ve made your way courtesy of a GED and gutsy determination. If your experience is in a boardroom—” she touched one dark-haired man on the shoulder lightly “—or in a mechanics’ shop.” She smiled at Mr. Smarty Pants, who looked like he wanted to squirm in his seat. “It’s not what you’ve done that will influence my choice, but who you are. I’m looking for a particular ingenuity and strength of character, and I know I’m going to find that ideal individual within our extended Fortune family.” She smiled broadly and spread her arms wide. “It could be any one of you!”

  It was too much.

  Too...freaking...much.

  Ben slammed his glass down on the bar, noticing with one portion of his infuriated mind the concerned look that the pretty bartender gave him.

  “Not anyone.”

  Chapter Two

  Every head in the house seemed to swivel toward him.

  Ben didn’t care. He stared down Kate Fortune, who was giving him a steely look from the middle of the room.

  “And who might you be?”

  He had steely looks of his own and he was not going to be cowed by anyone’s demands, least of all hers. “Benjamin Fortune.”

  For about a millisecond, the woman appeared shocked. But then the look on her face was wiped out by one of confident authority. “I sincerely doubt that. I would have remembered putting that name on my guest list, since the real Benjamin Fortune was my first husband, may he rest in peace.”

  “Oh, I am real enough.”

  Kate waved off Sterling, who—along with the guard Ben had gotten past so easily—had joined her. “My Ben may have had all nature of illegitimate heirs,” she said coolly, “but they were identified years ago. So I’ll warn you, young man, that I know how to ferret out an imposter.”

  “Warn away, ma’am,” he said flatly. “I’m no imposter. Any more than Jerome Fortune was.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Jerome died years ago.”

  It was nothing more than he’d expected. “He’s alive and well and living right here in Austin. And if you cared as much as you claim to about family, you’d already know that.”

  “Sweetheart,” Sterling suggested firmly, sliding his arm around Kate’s narrow waist, “maybe this discussion can wait.”
>
  “Of course.” Kate’s smile widened once more, but the steel in her eyes didn’t soften as she looked around at her guests again. “This is a birthday party, after all, and what is a party without food and music and drinks? Please. Carry on!” On cue, the quartet began playing again and waiters bearing trays of food suddenly marched into the room in time to the music.

  Ben wasn’t interested in food. Or music. He was only interested in having his say with this woman, once and for all.

  Nor was Kate distracted from him. She spoke briefly to Sterling, who didn’t look particularly happy, before approaching Ben by herself.

  “Jerome Fortune,” she said when she reached him.

  “Yes.”

  “We’ll see.” Her smile didn’t extend to her eyes, but she regally took Ben’s arm and headed out of the room. When Ben happened to glance back toward the bar, it seemed to him that the only person in the room who wasn’t watching and whispering was Ella from behind her bar.

  When they reached a narrow hallway, Kate spoke again, her voice calm. Maybe even genuinely curious. “How did you get in this evening?”

  “Courtesy of your lax security guard.”

  “Hmm.” She gestured at a closed door when they approached it and he pushed it open, following her through to another hallway. The door swung closed behind them, muting the sounds of the party. “I’ve never been a fan of gate-crashers.”

  “Then you should’ve done better due diligence in rounding up all your precious Fortunes when you decided to dangle this whole Fortune Cosmetics deal in front of them,” he said evenly.

  She stopped next to another closed door and looked up at him, her expression calculating. “Is that what you want, Benjamin?” It was clear she didn’t believe that was actually his name. “You want a chance at running part of my company?”

  He laughed abruptly, even though the only bit of humor he’d felt in months had been courtesy of Ella Thomas just a few minutes earlier. “I don’t need to run anything of yours,” he assured her. “Nor do any others in my family. We’re not money-grubbing imposters. We have no need of your wealth.”