Fortune's Secret Heir Page 9

  “Oh.” She waved her hand. “Well, then, clearly you haven’t really traveled.”

  He laughed softly, and the sound of it seemed to make something inside her chest swell. To cover, she took a long sip from her coffee cup.

  The plane had leveled out and the sound of the engines had softened to a low, steady hum that was barely discernible. “What’s your favorite place?”

  “Austin, Texas, US of A,” he said immediately.

  “I’m surprised. But that’s certainly spoken like a Texan.”

  “If the boot fits.”

  She gave his well-shined shoes a pointed look. “Have you ever even worn boots?”

  “Can you be a Texan without having done so?”

  “Perhaps not,” she said humorously. “Your boots are probably custom-made with hand-tooled leather and God knows what else.”

  “I believe they were custom Castletons.”

  “Castleton boots aren’t in most people’s budgets even when they’re not custom.”

  “I can’t help that. How many pairs of boots do you have?”

  She shrugged. “Two. One for dress. One for casual. And they’re certainly not Castletons, but I’ve had them forever, too. Ever since high school.”

  He coughed slightly, but not quickly enough to mask the laugh that it really was. “So really old,” he said after he’d recovered.

  Because it did sound a bit ridiculous, she smiled, too. Well, that and the fact that it was fairly impossible not to smile when Ben Robinson was looking at you that way. “I have more boots than I have suits,” she drawled, tugging at her blazer. “And more textbooks than both. I brought my taxation book and it’s taking up as much space in my bag as my clothes.”

  “Textbooks. I remember the day. Do you really have physical books anymore or ebooks?”

  “A mix.” She didn’t really want to get on the topic of digital books because it might lead to talk of computers and other magical electronic devices, which would lead to having her brother’s avid interest in all things Robinson Tech bouncing around inside her head. “Depends on the class,” she explained, which held enough truth not to make her skin heat. She took a sip of her coffee and made a point of looking out the window beside her.

  The plane was slicing through bands of wispy white clouds that still allowed her to see the checkerboard landscape far below. “It’s so pretty,” she murmured.

  “Things are always prettier from a distance.”

  She looked back at him. “I don’t know if that’s very profound, or if it’s very sad.”

  “Closer you get, the more you see the flaws. The devil’s always in the details.”

  “No computer would exist today if it weren’t for those devilish details. Can’t imagine you could have any computer system that—” she waved her hand in the space between their seats “—glosses over anything. One missed circuit, one missed connection, one missed wire or screw or filament or programming logic?” She shrugged. “Then you’ve got a hunk of useless hardware sitting around collecting dust, don’t you? Computers in our phones. Computers in our cars. Computers as small as my thumbnail and as large as entire warehouses. This plane is probably run as much by a computer as Captain Michael up there.”

  She shook her head and looked out the window again at the checkerboard squares below. “If it weren’t for some farmer—goodness knows how many farmers and workers are down there plowing fields, planting some, resting others—I wouldn’t be able to look at it from a distance and appreciate how pretty it is.” She glanced at him again. “Devil’s not in those details any more than the devil’s in...what do they call them? The facilities where you make computer chips and stuff?”

  “You mean clean rooms?”

  She nodded. “I don’t need distance to see the prettiness. I’ll take the details.”

  “Spoken like a future accountant.”

  She smiled. “And if everything works out with this job you hired me for, I’ll be able to call myself one long before I thought I would.”

  “You’ve already made enough progress to take us to Boston.” His voice was calm and certain. “Of course everything will work out.”

  She inhaled a quick breath and forced a suddenly shaky smile.

  Of course everything would work out. How could it not?

  Chapter Seven

  When they landed in Boston, the sky was solid, leaden.

  Ben watched Ella wrap herself in the ancient-looking coat and turn up the collar against the stiff, cold breeze that sliced over them even in the short distance from the terminal to the familiar black Town Car waiting for them.

  She ducked her head and quickly climbed into the rear of the car ahead of him. And even though Ben had never felt the space inside the vehicle was confining, it did when he sat down beside her.

  And even though he felt warm in the heated car—overly so, thanks to her closeness—it was obvious that she didn’t, considering the way she balled her hands up inside the bottoms of her coat sleeves after fastening her seat belt. “You need a scarf and gloves.”

  She immediately poked her hands back out, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. “I have mittens inside my bag.” And it was being stowed as she spoke in the trunk by their gray-haired driver, Johnny, who climbed behind the wheel a moment later.

  “Your water taxi will be waiting, Mr. Robinson,” Johnny said as he worked his way out into the stream of taxis and buses continually pulling up and pulling out from the airport terminal.

  Ben’s attention was on Ella’s face. Her pert nose was red from the cold.

  “I think you’d better cancel the water taxi and just drive us into the city.”

  “Oh, but—” Ella looked dismayed. “Isn’t the hotel right across the harbor?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “The water taxi has a heated cabin,” Johnny reminded, “but I’m at your disposal for your entire stay here in Boston the same as always. If you want me to drive you around—”

  “Yes,” Ben instructed. He had to steel himself against her palpable disappointment. He pulled out his cell phone and blindly scrolled through one message after another. “We’ll still get you on the water, Ella. Promise.”

  * * *

  Ella felt rather like a schoolgirl who’d just been told she’d still get her treat. And even though she’d looked forward to the novel experience of a water taxi—supposedly one of the easiest ways to travel from the airport—she wasn’t here for pleasure. She twisted her watch around so she could see her watch face. “We’re meeting Randy in less than thirty minutes.”

  “You’re meeting him.” He slid his phone in his pocket again and gave her a distracted look. “We’ve got enough time,” he assured her. “And even if we were late, he’d wait.”

  Because Randy thought he was being interviewed for a legitimate position with Robinson Tech.

  She knew how intently Ben was looking forward to learning more about the other man, but she still couldn’t help feeling as though she was part of a great deception.

  And the closer they came to her supposed “interview” with Randy Phillips, the tighter the knots got in her stomach.

  The drive from the airport to their hotel took less time than she’d expected and before she was at all prepared, she was hurrying to keep up with Ben as he strode through the lobby with the attractive, long-legged hotel representative who personally showed them to their rooms.

  The moment Ella stepped across the threshold of her room, she was entranced by the view out the window opposite her. She was vaguely aware of the bellman depositing her satchel on a rack as if it was just as fine a piece of luggage as Ben’s, but she couldn’t help walking straight to the picture window overlooking the harbor and peering out even if it did make her look like a kid with her first view of Santa Claus
.

  Despite the sky that had turned gray before they’d landed, the view was simply spectacular. And she knew it couldn’t have come inexpensively.

  She looked over her shoulder at the king-size bed, the wing chairs and gleaming desk. Half of the house in which she lived could have fit into the spacious room.

  Then she realized Ben was standing in the doorway looking amused, along with Long Legs and the bellman—both of whom wore kind, discreet smiles.

  “Think it’ll do?”

  She refrained from falling back on the sumptuous-looking bed and gave him a look. “Are you sure this isn’t supposed to be your room?”

  “Mr. Robinson is in one of our suites,” Long Legs said. She crossed the room and wrote on a small notepad sitting next to a complicated-looking telephone. “I’m writing his room number down for you,” she said, “as well as my personal number. Should you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me, day or night.” She set down the pen just so next to the pad and returned to the doorway. “Would you like Jeremy here to show you the features of the room?”

  Jeremy was too similar to Jerome, which served to remind her of her purpose there. “I’m fine.” She unbuttoned her coat and focused on Ben. He was clearly a familiar face here at the hotel, but Ella couldn’t imagine that he would have filled them in on the actual nature of his business there. Not this time. “I’ll just freshen up and head down for the meeting. I’ll report in afterward.”

  Ben nodded and the three of them left, pulling the door closed after them.

  Alone in the elegant room, Ella’s shoulders fell and she dragged off the coat, tossing it on one of the lovely coral-colored wing chairs. She brushed her hands down the sides of her navy blue blazer and opened her satchel to retrieve the zippered cosmetic case. Then she went into the bathroom, catching her breath all over again amid the gleam of crystal and marble.

  Her eyes in the mirror looked as shell-shocked as she felt, and it probably wasn’t a look that belonged on a representative from Robinson Tech.

  She swiped some blush over her cheeks to brighten them up, and pulled her hair free from the ponytail. She worked her hairbrush through the long strands, not sure if she looked better or worse with her hair down. Ultimately, she decided to weave it away from her face in a loose braid that seemed a little more sophisticated then her usual ponytail. Her expression was still on the verge of making her seem like a wide-eyed bumpkin, but there was nothing she could do about that and she turned her back on her reflection, marching smartly back into the bedroom. Not letting herself become distracted by the view again, she pulled out a portfolio that held her notepad and a pen. She didn’t have a briefcase, but at least the leather-looking portfolio cover seemed somewhat professional. She tucked it beneath her arm, slid her room key into her blazer pocket and, without stopping to let the sheer nervousness inside her go from bubbling to boiling over, left the room.

  There was a couple already in the elevator when it stopped at Ella’s floor. They were arm in arm and seemed oblivious to Ella’s presence, considering the way they were locked on one another. In fact, Ella stood right in front of the doors, keeping her eyes trained on the floor display just to keep from feeling like a voyeur.

  Mercifully, the elevator speedily dropped without stopping at any floors other than the lobby, and she quickly bolted from the car as soon as the doors parted. She made her way to the restaurant where she was to meet Randy. As soon as she gave her name, the hostess showed her to a table next to the window looking out on the wharf.

  And a dark-haired man was already sitting there, looking out that window.

  For a startled moment, adrenaline pumped through her. But then the man shifted in his seat, giving her a view of his profile, and she relaxed again.

  She approached the table, her hand outstretched. “Mr. Phillips?”

  His smile was wide. “Ms. Thomas.” He stood and clasped her hand in a quick handshake.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “Not at all.” He gestured at the chair across from his. “I was early, actually.” His smile was engaging. And while his eyes were light, as she’d seen from the online photo of him she’d found, they weren’t blue at all, but a pale, amber brown. “Anxious, I guess,” he admitted ruefully. “I’m still finding it a little surreal that Robinson Tech sought me out.”

  Conscience nipping, Ella somehow managed to keep her smile in place as she sat down and placed her notepad on the table. “Robinson Tech prides itself on employing the best and the brightest.” She was merely quoting some of the tidbits she’d found on the Robinson Tech website, but it made Randy smile harder than ever.

  A waiter approached then, giving Ella a reprieve before she had to begin the false interview. She ordered a glass of iced tea and a crab salad, which Randy dittoed, and all too quickly, the reprieve was over.

  She folded her hands on top of her notepad. “So, Mr. Phillips—”

  “Randy.”

  She smiled. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself? What made you decide to go into programming?”

  He sat forward a little, launching enthusiastically into what was obviously a well-prepared spiel.

  She understood only a portion of the technical jargon he used, but figured that didn’t really matter. She was supposedly a human resources representative. That didn’t mean that she had to understand the finer points of everything he said. He was still talking when their meals arrived, and he broke off with a good-natured laugh as he sat back. “I could talk for hours, obviously.”

  She picked up her fork, “It’s good to be passionate about your work.”

  “My parents were the same way.”

  Her grip tightened and she raised her eyebrows casually. “Oh?”

  “Even before them, my grandparents were the same. My maternal grandmother started out in the tech industry back when most women—if they worked at all—were expected to be nurses and teachers. My mom followed in her footsteps.”

  She prodded a chunk of lettuce. “And your father?”

  “Systems analyst. Retired a few years ago. How about you? Do you like working for Robinson Tech? Have you been with them long?”

  She shoved a forkful of flaky, sweet crab in her mouth and gave a shrug and a nod that she hoped could mean most anything. “It’s a dynamic company,” she finally said.

  A man in jogging gear trotted past the window, drawing the attention of both of them. “Did you grow up here in Boston?”

  He shook his head. “Colorado, actually. My old man worked at the US Air Force Academy. That’s where my parents met. We moved to Massachusetts when I was a teenager.” He looked at her over their twin salads. “What about you? Robinson Tech is headquartered in Texas. Judging by the very attractive drawl you have, I’m guessing you’ve lived in Texas a while.”

  She smiled. “You might say that. Born and raised in Austin.”

  “Where y’all like to keep it weird, I hear.”

  She chuckled. “‘Keep Austin Weird’ has been a slogan there almost as long as I can remember.” She lifted her shoulder. “We pride ourselves on being unique. Austin, Texas, is Austin, Texas. Not a carbon copy of any other city in Texas or elsewhere.”

  He grinned. “That’s the word my mother uses to describe Austin. Unique. She lived there for a while before I was born. Actually worked for Robinson Tech for a brief time. It was Robinson Computers then, of course. Earlier days before the company really exploded into a global phenomenon.” He leaned closer across the table, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Her mother—my grandmother—told me once that she even had an affair with the man who founded the company.”

  Ella’s fork slipped out of her suddenly lax fingers.

  Randy chuckled and sat back. “Mom’s never spoken about it, so it’s probably not true, anyway. But it makes for a
good story.” He gestured toward her, humor lighting his eyes. “Particularly with Robinson Tech now approaching me with the possibility of working there. Just goes to prove that the entire world is pretty darn weird, not just Austin, Texas.”

  Ella dabbed her napkin against her lips, gathering her composure. “I’m guessing all this happened before your mother married your dad,” she finally managed to say with an immodestly impressive measure of drollness.

  Randy’s smile widened. “You’d think. But with my mom? Some things are hard to tell.”

  Ella laughed lightly. “Well, that sounds like a very interesting story.” She deliberately met his eyes for a brief second, then looked away. But her effort of flirtation was ruined when her elbow knocked her notepad off the table. “Call me a klutz,” she said wryly and leaned over to get it.

  “You’re too charming to be that,” he assured, leaning over also.

  * * *

  Sitting across the room at the bar, Ben’s hand tightened around the beer he’d been nursing for the past thirty minutes.

  He knew he should have stayed up in his hotel suite.

  But pacing around up there while wondering how Ella’s meeting with Phillips was progressing had tested the always short limits of his patience. Yet being cooped up in his suite would have been preferable to watching Ella sit with the other man at that small window-side table as they laughed and smiled at each other.

  “Would you like to see a menu, sir?”

  He dragged his attention away from Ella and gave the bartender an impatient shake of his head. “I’ll let you know if I do.”

  “Very good, sir.” The bartender—a balding guy twice Ben’s age—tilted his head in acknowledgment and moved away.

  Ben knew he’d been short with the guy, but figured a fat tip would compensate. He looked back at Ella’s table, only to see both her and Phillips bending down to the floor to pick up the thin brown book that had been sitting on the table beside Ella.