Page 52 of A Fortunes of Texas Christmas (Fortunes of Texas)

“I know,” she said and squeezed his fingers tightly. “I guess I would like to see where this might lead.”

His gut took a dive. Because he wanted that, too, and the fact they lived in different countries was a glaring, insurmountable obstacle. He wasn’t sure it was something they could get past. And yet he suddenly had an image of her beside him, hands linked as they walked through his vineyard on the hill.

Their meals arrived shortly afterward, and he watched as she savored every mouthful of the stuffed chicken breast. Everything with Robin seemed like an adventure. Eating good food, sipping wine, walking through the streets of Austin, watching an old movie, making love as though there was no tomorrow.

“Excuse me, you’re Amersen Beaudin, correct?”

He turned at the sound of a deep male voice to his left. A man in his early thirties stood near their table, dressed in a dark suit. Amersen didn’t know him, but he was used to being recognized. Of course, it mostly happened in his hometown, but the world was a much smaller place thanks to social media. Amersen placed his wineglass on the table and nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

The man held out his hand. “Good evening. My name is Alejandro Mendoza. Welcome to the Mendoza Winery.”

Right. So he’d been recognized, because this man was obviously the owner and knew he also owned a vineyard and produced wine. He shook his hand and quickly introduced Robin. She smiled and said hello, and then he turned as much attention as he could muster to the other man. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise. I hear you have the best winemaker in the entire Loire Valley. It must be challenging trying to keep him at your vineyard.”

Amersen smiled to himself thinking that the humble yet passionate seventy-year-old winemaker Jean-Pierre would laugh out loud if he knew he was being discussed as the best in the business from the other side of the globe. “It is what many say. Although he has already turned down three job offers this month. But if you feel you can match the ridiculously large salary I pay him, please, take a shot.”

Alejandro laughed. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying. Oh, I’d like to introduce you to my wife.”

“Of course.”

“Querida,” Alejandro said and beckoned someone to his side. Within seconds an attractive, slender woman with long dark hair and brown eyes sidled up beside the other man. “Liv, I’d like you to meet Amersen Beaudin... Amersen, this is my wife, Olivia Fortune Mendoza.”

Amersen’s skin turned bitingly cold, and he angled his head and met the woman’s gaze. He saw the shock in her expression and then the quick way she masked her surprise. There was no doubting it.

She knew.

He felt his lungs tighten, experienced a familiar dread crawling across his skin as he jerked his gaze away. He could hear Alejandro Mendoza jabbering on about how he owned a vineyard and was a celebrity and was known by his first name on social media, but the sound of his voice became a drone in Amersen’s ears. All he heard was one thing.

Fortune.

This woman, with her haunted brown eyes, was a Fortune. One of the Fortunes.

She smiled tentatively, muttered something to her husband and quickly excused herself. As she walked off, Amersen experienced an intense surge of relief. Except for the tightness in his chest and the feeling that he could barely a drag a breath into his lungs. Alejandro lingered for a moment, offered Amersen a return visit during the day to inspect the vineyard and wished them a pleasant evening. Once the other man was gone, he took a breath, and then another, the tightness increasing, the discomfort rising in his chest. Amersen knew where he was heading, knew his lungs would fail him if he didn’t do something about it.

“Are you okay?”

Robin. It was the first time she’d spoken in minutes. He met her gaze and saw concern and confusion in her expression. “Actually...no. I don’t feel well. Do you mind if we finish here and head out?”

The furrow about her nose increased. “No...of course not.”

Once they were back in the car, Amersen grabbed the inhaler he’d tossed into the glove compartment earlier that day. The thought of Robin witnessing him struggling for breath was unbearable...but if he d

idn’t use the inhaler, he knew he would be in for a full-blown attack. He took a puff. And then another, not daring to look in her direction.

Finally, she spoke. “Are you okay?”

He glanced sideways, seeing her concern and hating that she’d witnessed him needing his medication. “Fine,” he lied, his pride well and truly battered.

“What happened in there?”

Amersen shrugged. “Nothing. Just a combination of cold night air and jet lag. I told you I was an asthmatic.”

He didn’t want to lie to her...but he wasn’t in any mood to come clean, either.

She didn’t look convinced. “Let me drive back.”

“No,” he said, harsher than he liked. “I’m fine.”

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