Stella Bagwell – Fortune's Perfect Valentine (страница 1)
Fortune (?) of the Month: Wesley “Wes” Robinson. Aka Wes Fortune?
Age: 33—and just a few minutes younger than his twin brother, which still irks him.
Vital statistics: Six feet plus with dark hair you’d love to rumple, laser-blue eyes, and don’t forget that sexy brain.
Claim to Fame: Wes is the computer genius behind most of Robinson Tech’s success.
Romantic prospects: Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous believes “love” is nothing more than a chemical reaction. He thinks compatibility is a crock.
“I don’t believe Vivian’s new app can possibly work. Finding your perfect match via smartphone?
“However, I know a moneymaker when I see one. That’s why I’m spending so much time conferring with Vivian. It’s all about getting the product off the ground. And possibly proving my star developer wrong. It has nothing at all to do with her hazel eyes … or her persistent personality … or the way she gets me to reveal things I’d rather keep buried inside. I’ve heard enough of my father’s Fortune history to know that wishing for a lifetime love is simply a pipe dream. Or is it?”
The Fortunes of Texas: All Fortune’s Children— Money. Family. Cowboys. Meet the Austin Fortunes!
Fortune’s Perfect Valentine
Stella Bagwell
After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. Living on the south Texas coast, she also enjoys being outdoors and helping her husband care for the horses, cats and dog that call their small ranch home. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.
To my husband, Harrell, and son, Jason.
With love to my two Valentines.
Contents
“So this little square picture of a key opening a heart is going to change the dating habits of the entire nation. I tap it with my fingertip and magically it will lead me to my true love.” With a mocking snort, Wesley Robinson pushed the smartphone aside. “What a crock of crap.”
Vivian Blair scowled at the man sitting behind the wide mahogany desk. At this moment, it didn’t matter that he was her boss, who also happened to be Vice President of Research and Development at Robinson Tech. Nor did it matter that he happened to be the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. This project was her baby and she had no intentions of letting him make a mockery of her hard work.
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, her voice rising along with her irritation. “This little button you’re calling a crock of crap just happens to be a product of your company. A company owned and operated by your family, I might add. Have you forgotten that you approved this idea months ago?”
Ignoring her outburst, he calmly answered, “I’ve not forgotten anything, Vivian.”
Throughout the six years she’d worked for Wes Robinson, he’d rarely called her by her given name, and on each occasion it had never failed to rattle her senses. Her boss was always strictly business. So having her name roll off his tongue was the closest he ever got to acknowledging she was a flesh-and-blood woman.
Vivian shifted on the edge of the wingback chair and did her best to refocus her jolted thoughts on their debate. “Then why are you so intent on degrading the product? I thought you were convinced it was going to make the company a pile of money.”
With confident ease, he leaned back in the oxblood leather chair. After slipping a pair of tortoise-framed glasses from his nose, he leveled a somewhat smug gaze on her face. Vivian had the very unprofessional urge to stick her tongue out at him.
“I still believe the app is going to make money. And probably lots of it,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I believe the theory behind the dating site will hold up. In fact, I’m willing to bet that after a few months the app’s popularity will sink, simply because the public is going to realize that My Perfect Match won’t fulfill its promise. Still, I’m willing to gamble the initial sales of the app will outweigh its short lifespan.”
It was hard enough for Vivian to deal with having his eyes sliding leisurely over her face, but hearing him discount her hard work was even worse.
Leaning forward, she said briskly, “Forgive my bluntness, Mr. Robinson, but you’re wrong. Completely wrong. My Perfect Match will work. My scientific research assures me that compatibility is the key to finding a perfect mate. The app will lead the consumer to a list of questions that follows strict criteria of the most important issues and topics in a person’s private life. If they’re answered truthfully, the computer will be able to match you with the perfect person based on corresponding answers.”
His short laugh was weighted with sarcasm. “Sorry, but you just spouted a bunch of hooey. When a man sidles up to a woman at the bar, you think he has a list of questions on his mind?” Not waiting for her to answer, he plowed on, “There’s only one question on his mind. And that’s whether she’ll say yes or no. He doesn’t give a damn whether she eats fish twice a week, walks a mile a day or has a cat for a pet.”
Vivian’s back teeth clamped together as she fought to hold on to her dignity and her temper. “I might remind you that this app isn’t an instrument for locating a one-night stand!” She tapped the screen of her phone. “This is a social aid to help lonely people find a perfect partner—one to spend the rest of their lives with happily. Or have you heard of that concept before?”
A wry expression crossed his face, and Vivian allowed her gaze to take a slow survey of his rugged features. At thirty-three years old, he was definitely coming into his prime, she decided. Piercing blue eyes sat beneath an unyielding line of dark brows, while a wide nose led down to a set of thin, chiseled lips. She couldn’t remember a time she’d seen his strong, angled jaw without a dark shadow of day-old stubble or his short, coffee-brown hair in a style other than rumpled disarray. Yet she had to admit it was that touch of edginess that often pushed her thoughts in a naughty direction.
Many of Vivian’s coworkers at Robinson Tech had trouble telling Wes apart from his identical twin, Ben, who was the newly appointed COO of the company. But Vivian could truthfully say she never got the two men mixed up. Unlike his brother Ben, Wes was rarely ever spotted in a suit and tie. Instead he usually arrived each morning for work in khakis or jeans. Yet it wasn’t exactly their fashion choices that set the two men apart. Wes’s quiet, reserved manner was totally opposite his brash twin’s demeanor.
Clearly bored, he said, “I suppose you’re talking about marriage now. I’ve heard enough on that subject this past month to last me a lifetime.”
Since his brother Ben’s wedding was taking place in about two weeks, on Valentine’s Day, Vivian could only assume he was referring to that marriage. As far as she knew, Wes had never had a long-term girlfriend, much less been engaged. But then, she hardly knew what the man did outside this massive office building. She was only an employee, one of many who worked for the Robinson family.
Moving her gaze to a point just over his shoulder, she studied the skyline of downtown Austin. The capital of Texas had always been her home, yet she doubted that beyond this building, her footsteps had ever crossed Wes’s path. Or, for that matter, the path of any other member of his wealthy family. That was just one of the reasons she never allowed herself to look at him as anything more than a boss, rather than a man with enough sex appeal to make a woman swoon.
Giving herself a hard mental shake, she countered his statement with a question. “What else? If a person finds their perfect mate, the natural progression is marriage.”
Vivian’s gaze slipped back to his face just in time to see the corners of his mouth turn downward, and she realized this conversation was giving her more peeks into the man’s private feelings than she’d ever expected to see. But then she’d never planned for this meeting to turn into a debate about dating or love or sex. Vivian hardly discussed such things with any man, much less her boss. Awkward couldn’t begin to describe the turmoil she was feeling.
“Marriage is hardly the reason consumers will purchase the app,” he said wryly. “But regardless of their motives, the concept won’t work. The connection between a man and a woman is all about chemistry. It’s the sparks—the fire—that fuse two people together. Not whether their likes and dislikes are the same.”