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
