Page 32 of A Fortunes of Texas Christmas (Fortunes of Texas)

His cheeks darkened. “I wasn’t ready for anything serious at the time. And I never lied to her about a future.”

“Just long enough to get her into bed, I imagine.”

“I never lied,” he said again, his mouth suddenly a thin line. “Not all men stoop to lies and deception, Robin.”

It was a deliberate hit, and she sat up straight in the chair. “I know that. I’ve had a good role model in my own father to know the difference. Like you have, I suppose.”

“Luc Beaudin is my stepfather.”

Robin stared at him, eyes wide. “Oh...I didn’t know that.”

“No one knows,” he said quietly. “Except my parents and sister.”

Robin swallowed hard, reeling in the weight of his admission to her. “And your real dad?”

His gaze narrowed. “Luc is my real father,” he shot back quickly. “At least he is in every way that counts.”

“Of course,” she corrected quickly. “I just mean, your biological father.”

“A sperm donor,” he replied baldly. “Nothing more.”

“Have you ever met him?”

* * *

Amersen had no real idea why he’d told Robin something he’d never even discussed with his closest friends. It was the most private part of himself, like a shadow he tried to dodge at every opportunity. Although he’d always known Luc wasn’t his birth father, it wasn’t until he was sixteen that he’d demanded to know who the other man was. That was when his mother had told him an abridged version of the truth—that he was conceived from a brief affair she’d had while in America and that his biological father was a wealthy married man who had another family and would never leave his wife. She’d never said who he was, and Amersen hadn’t asked. What did it matter after so many years? It wasn’t until he was contacted by Keaton Fortune Whitfield and Ben Fortune Robinson and found out he was Gerald Robinson’s biological son that all his previously concealed resentment had surged to the surface.

Because he hated the fact he was Gerald Robinson’s bastard child.

He hated it so much he could taste the hatred on his tongue and feel it burning through his veins. And he’d never admitted that fact to anyone, not even his mother, not even once he knew the whole truth about who he was, after she told him how she’d convinced Robinson she’d taken care of her pregnancy and the man had been relieved. Because twenty-five years ago Robinson hadn’t been prepared to acknowledge Suzette’s child as his own...and now Amersen wasn’t prepared to acknowledge that other man as his father.

r /> “No,” he said, answering her question. “I’ve never met him.”

“And you’ve never told anyone?”

He shrugged and feigned interest in the food on his plate. “Never.”

Amersen expected her to ask him why he admitted such a thing. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached across the table and placed a steady hand on his forearm. He could feel the warmth of her touch through his shirt, the connection somehow like a tonic that eased away any regret he had in telling her. And suddenly, the rest of the story teetered on the edge of his tongue, anxious to be told.

“You can trust me, Amersen. I won’t betray your confidence.”

He glanced up and met her gaze. She drew back her hand and continued eating her meal, but Amersen was achingly conscious of the undercurrent of awareness between them. It was impossible to ignore the fact that they were drawn to one another. And he wanted more of her. Despite knowing he was leaving in a matter of days.

“Would you spend the day with me tomorrow?”

She took a breath, and he was sure he heard a tiny shudder and prepared himself for her refusal. Of course she should. That would be the sensible thing to do.

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight and we can head into town for breakfast,” he said and then gestured to the plate in front of him. “Incidentally, you’re not a terrible cook. This is très bien...very good.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You’re very sweet.”

“Sweet?” Amersen laughed and drank some wine. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me that before.”

Robin’s face lit up in a lovely smile. “For the record, that doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you tonight.”

Amersen cast her an earnest look. “I know this,” he said and reached out to grasp her hand, lightly stroking her palm. “I have no illusions, Robin. I’ll be returning to Paris soon, and the last thing I wish to do is hurt you in any way. But we can spend time together as friends, oui?”

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