rude to her list along with bumbling and idiot.
“Please sit down,” she called to him.
He turned and slipped into the seat across from her.
“How was the pie?” she asked, her words sounding embarrassingly breathless.
“Worth enduring Johnny’s company while I ate it,” he said with a half smile. “Thank you for that and for diffusing the situation. You are the prettiest knight in shining armor I’ve ever met.”
She was so busy watching to see if the half smile turned into a full grin that it took a minute for his words to sink in. Had he just called her pretty?
“How did you know I prefer apple?”
She shrugged. “Lola May’s isn’t huge. You order a slice of apple pie every night.”
“It’s the best.” He leaned a little closer. “You also know my name.”
“The diner caters to regulars. You’re becoming a regular, Keaton, so I know your name.”
“I appreciate that, Francesca,” he answered.
Lord have mercy, it was a good thing she was sitting down because the way her name sounded in his rich, cultured voice made her knees go weak.
“You know I’m an architect.”
She felt color rise to her cheeks but didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”
“And the bit about my reputation?”
She huffed out a soft laugh. “I guessed at that.”
One of his thick brows rose.
“Someone is sinking a ton of money into the Austin Commons project across the street. Reports say it’s going to be the new retail and residential anchor for the neighborhood. They wouldn’t leave the design to someone who couldn’t handle it.” Now she leaned in, something about the warmth in his gaze inviting her closer. “Was I wrong about you?”
“No.”
“Are you famous?”
The smile widened. “In some circles, I suppose.”
“I also heard,” she murmured, “that you’re part of the Fortune family.”
He nodded, his blue eyes turning cool as he sat back against the vinyl-covered cushion of the booth. Interesting. Most people she knew would be shouting their connection to such a powerful family from the rooftops. Keaton seemed uncomfortable that she’d mentioned it. All traces of the smile disappeared from his face, making him look no less handsome but a lot more intimidating.
“It was pretty big news in Austin when Gerald Robinson was revealed to be that Fortune heir who everyone thought was dead.”
“Jerome Fortune.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Gerald Robinson is really Jerome Fortune. He’s your father?”
“He is.”
“Is that why you took on Austin Commons? To get to know your dad?”
“No,” he answered, the word spoken through clenched teeth. “I want nothing to do with the man, although I’m happy to spend time with my half siblings.”
It seemed she’d struck a nerve, so she quickly changed the subject. “I always wanted brothers and sisters.” She reached for her water glass and took a long drink, suddenly aware that she was sitting in Lola May’s, having a conversation with Keaton Fortune Whitfield. So much for all her plans about flirting.
She was lucky to be able to put a complete sentence together with him watching her from those gorgeous blue eyes. The lashes that surrounded them were so long they looked almost unreal. The strong line of his jaw and the faint shadow of stubble covering it balanced his beautiful eyes and full mouth.
“You’re an only child?” he prompted, the half smile returning, as if he could read her mind and understood exactly his effect on her.
She nodded. “It was just my mom and me.”
“I was raised by a single mum, as well.” He blew out a breath. “The whole time I was growing up, she worked at least two jobs to support me. She was my hero.”
All she could do was stare at him. Of all the things this man could have said, there was nothing more endearing to Francesca than how much he obviously loved his mother.
He flashed a full-fledged grin, somewhat self-deprecating, as if he hadn’t meant to share that detail with her. “Do I sound like a mummy’s boy?”
“Hardly,” she said on a small laugh. “You sound like the type of son every mother dreams about.” She paused then said, “I like the way you say ‘mum’ with your accent.”
“This coming from the woman with the adorable twang.”
“I’m a proud Texan native,” she told him, hitching a thumb at herself. “Go Longhorns. Keep Austin weird.”
“Remember the Alamo,” he added.
She giggled. “Exactly.”
“What are you studying?” He tapped a finger on the pile of notes in front of her.
“Accounting,” she said with a sigh. “I have a test tomorrow and it took everything I had to pull out an A last semester. This class is going to kill me.”
“Not going for a finance degree, I take it?”
“I’m a business major with a concentration in marketing. It’s not that I don’t like accounting...”
He nodded. “Because most people find it fascinating.”
She laughed again. For all her nerves around Keaton, it was also surprisingly easy to laugh with him. It had been a long time since Francesca had joked around with a man, other than her customers at the diner.
“I’m not sure fascinating is the right word,” she answered, “but the truth is math and I don’t always get along.” She pointed a finger at him. “I bet you’re a math whiz.”
“Not exactly,” he said, “but I do use dimensions, quantities, area and other math-based principles in my work, as they relate to spatial thinking and patterns.” He took a breath then gave her another lopsided smile. “From mummy’s boy to architecture geek. I’m not doing a bang-up job of impressing you, am I?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she muttered, because Keaton uttering building terms had the same effect on her body as another man whispering love words.
“Are you far along in your coursework?”
A familiar twinge of regret zipped across her stomach. “I’m in my second year,” she told him. “I took some time off after high school to...travel.”
“Visit
