MEET THE FORTUNES

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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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.

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

To my husband, Harrell, and son, Jason.

With love to my two Valentines.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“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.”

Sparks? Fire? Maybe it would be nice to have a man take her into his arms and set a torch to her senses. But that sort of mindless passion didn’t last. She had only to look at her own parents to see what happened between a man and a woman once the heat died and reality set in. Her mother had struggled to raise three children while her father had moved on to a younger woman. Now her mother lived alone, too disenchanted even to try to find a man to love her.

“Maybe attraction does initially pull two people together, but it hardly keeps them together,” she argued. “And that’s the problem My Perfect Match will fix. That’s why it’s going to be a huge success. Lasting relationships will eventually prove our product works.”

The faint smile on his face was etched with amusement and was far too patronizing for her taste.

“I admire your enthusiasm, Ms. Blair.”

He clearly didn’t agree with her, and that notion bothered her far more than it should have. Vivian understood that this project had nothing to do with personal viewpoints. It was about producing a product that would ultimately make money for the company. Still, hearing his jaded ideas on the subject of relationships between men and women was maddening to her.

“But you think I’m wrong,” she ventured. “If you’re so sure this concept is going to be a bust, then why did you agree to it in the first place? In two weeks, on Valentine’s Day, the app is scheduled to make its grand debut to the public. Don’t you think it’s rather late in the day to consider axing it?”

He cocked a brow at her. “What gave you the idea I want to ax it? Just because I don’t believe in the concept? Look, Ms. Blair, I’m a businessman first and foremost, and I happen to believe consumers are just gullible enough to fall for this sort of baloney. As far as I’m concerned, whether it works or not is a moot point.”

* * *

Wes watched as Vivian Blair’s spine stiffened and her fingers fluttered to the top button of her crisp white shirt. Clearly he’d flustered the woman, which surprised him somewhat. He’d never seen her any way but cool and professional. During her six years as one of a team of computer developers employed by Robinson Tech, she’d proved herself to be dedicated, innovative and smart. She’d never failed to impress him with her work, but as a woman, she’d never really drawn a second look from him. Until this morning, when she’d snatched off her black-rimmed glasses and glared at him.

Her hazel eyes had thrown heated daggers straight at him, and her fiery reaction had caught him by complete surprise. All at once, he’d forgotten she was an employee. Instead, his mind had taken a momentary detour from work and started a subtle survey of her appearance.

He’d never thought of Vivian Blair as anything more than a coworker, a brainy, no-nonsense developer. She dressed neatly but primly in blouses and skirts that covered her slender frame with enough fabric to make even the strictest father nod with approval. What little jewelry she wore usually amounted to no more than a modest string of pearls or a fine gold chain and cross. Her pumps were low-heeled and pedestrian. And though her brown, honey-streaked hair was shiny and long enough to brush her shoulders, she rarely wore it loose. Instead she favored pulling it back into a bun or some sort of conservative twist.

No. Vivian Blair’s appearance wasn’t one that caught a man’s attention. But seeing all that life sparking in her eyes had shown Wes a different side of her. And now, as her wide, full lips pressed into a tight line, he could only wonder what it might feel like to press his mouth to hers, to make those hard, cherry-colored lips yield softly to his.

Leaning slightly forward, he rested his forearms on the desktop and forced her gaze to meet his.

“Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

If possible, the line of her lips grew even tighter, while her nostrils flared with disdain.

“Why should I?” she countered stiffly. “Your job is to make money. Mine is to create products. With My Perfect Match, we’ve both succeeded. Or, at least, we will succeed once the app goes on the market.”

She was obviously trying to get her emotions under control, and for a moment Wes considered shooting a remark at her that would stir her temper all over again. It would be fun to see, he thought. But she wasn’t in his office for fun, and he hardly had time for it. Not with his twin brother, the COO of Robinson Tech, expecting Wes to put some new innovative idea on his desk every other day.

“You’re on track now, Ms. Blair.”

Her expression rigid, she reached for the small notepad and pen she’d placed on the edge of the desk when she’d first sat down for their meeting.

“So is the live remote still on for tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ve already spoken with the producer of Hey, USA this morning. Our segment is set to be broadcast at nine fifteen central tomorrow. So I expect you to be ready well before that time.”

She nodded. “And where do they plan to shoot this remote? The conference room?”

Wes shook his head. “Right here in my office.” He jerked his thumb toward the window behind him. “We’ll sit in front of the plate glass so the backdrop will be the skyline of the city. I think the producer—she wants an urban feel to the segment. You know, the image of city people hurrying and scurrying—too busy to find a date, so they rely on an app to find them one,” he added drily.

“My Perfect Match is more than finding a person a date. It’s—”

He held up a hand before she could slip into another sermon about compatibility and long-term relationships. Wes didn’t want anything long-term. And he sure as hell wasn’t looking to make any woman his wife. He’d seen his mother suffer through too many years of a loveless marriage to want the same for himself.

“Save it for the camera tomorrow,” he told her. “The public is who you need to convince, not me.”

She clutched the notebook to her chest, and Wes found himself wondering if she’d ever held a man to herself in that manner. He couldn’t imagine it. But then, he didn’t have a clue about her social life. Could be that once she was away from the Robinson Tech building, she tore off her professional demeanor and turned into a little wildcat. The idea very nearly put a smile on his face.

“Do you have any idea what sort of questions the interviewer will be asking? I’d like to be prepared.”

“You’ve had plenty to say on the subject during our meeting this morning,” he told her. “And I’m sure you won’t have any problem speaking your mind tomorrow. You’ll simply explain the product and how it works. I’ll speak for Robinson Tech and what the company stands for. The national exposure will be great.”

She dropped the notepad to her lap, but Wes’s gaze lingered on the subtle curves of her breasts beneath the white shirt. Damn it, what was wrong with him? He didn’t need to be ogling this woman. There were always plenty of women in his little black book who were ready to go out on a date with him. He certainly didn’t need to start having romantic notions about Vivian.

“Yes, the publicity is just what the app needs,” she said primly. “I only hope everything goes smoothly.”

Annoyed at his straying thoughts, he frowned at her. “Why should it not?”

Clearing her throat, she said, “I’ve never been on television before.”

He leveled a pointed look at her. “I’m sure there are plenty of things you’ve never done before, Ms. Blair. And there’s always a first time for everything.”

She straightened her shoulders, and once again Wes spotted a flash of anger in her eyes.

“You’re very reassuring,” she said.

“I’m not your caretaker, Ms. Blair.”

“Thank God.”

The words were muttered so quietly that at first Wes wasn’t sure he heard them. And once he’d concluded he’d heard correctly, he couldn’t quite believe she’d had the audacity to say them.

“What did you say?” he demanded.

Louder now, she answered, “I said, are we finished here?”

Any other time he would’ve upbraided an employee for making such a retort, but seeing Vivian Blair turn into a firecracker right in front of his eyes had knocked him off kilter.

“Yes. Be here in my office no later than eight forty-five in the morning. I don’t want any glitches or mishaps happening before the interview.”

“I’ll certainly be on time.”

She quickly rose to her feet and started toward the door. Before Wes could stop himself, he added, “And Ms. Blair, tomorrow for the interview, could you not look so—studious? My Perfect Match is all about romance. It might help if you—well, looked the part a bit more.”

Her back went ramrod straight as she fixed him with a stare. “In other words, sex sells,” she retorted. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

To a woman like Vivian, he supposed he sounded crude. But she should have understood that this was all about business. Still, something about the disdain on her face caused a wave of heat to wash up his neck and over his jaw. He could only hope the overhead lighting was too dim for her to pick up his discomfort.

Clearing his throat, he purposely swiveled his chair so that he was facing her. He’d be damned if he let this woman make him feel the least bit ashamed.

“Ms. Blair, there’s no cause for you to be offended. I’m not trying to exploit you or your gender. I’m trying to sell an idea. Having you look attractive and pretty can only help the matter.”

Even from the distance of a few feet, he could see her heave out a long breath. For one split second he was so tempted to see that fire in her eyes again that he almost left his chair and walked over to her. But he forced himself to stay put and behave as her boss, instead of a hot-blooded male.

Tilting her little chin to a challenging angle, she asked brusquely, “And what about your effort in all of this, Mr. Robinson? Do you plan to wax your chest and unbutton your shirt down to your waist?”

It took Wes a moment to digest her questions, but once they sank in, his reaction was to burst out laughing.

“Touché, Vivian. I expect I deserved that.”

“I expect you did,” she said flatly, then turned and left the room.

As Wes watched the door close behind her, he realized this was the first time in days that he’d laughed about anything. Strange, he thought, that a brainy employee had been the one to put a smile on his face.

Shaking his head with wry disbelief, he turned his chair back to the desk and reached for a stack of reports.

* * *

By the time Vivian returned to her work cubicle, she felt certain that steam was shooting from her ears. Before today, she’d never allowed herself to think of Wes Robinson as anything other than her boss. She’d kept herself immune to his dark good looks. A rather easy task, given the fact that he was so far out of her league, she needed a telescope to see him. But their meeting this morning had definitely given her a full view of the man. And what she’d seen she certainly disliked.

“Hey, Viv, ready for lunch?”

Pressing fingertips to the middle of her puckered forehead, she looked over her shoulder to see George Townsend standing at the entrance of her work cubicle. In his early fifties, he was a tall, burly man with red hair and a thick beard to match. Other than a set of elderly parents who lived more than a thousand miles away, he had no family. Instead, he seemed content to let his work be his family. Most everyone in the developmental department considered George a social recluse. Except Vivian.

During the years they’d worked together, she’d grown close to George. Now she considered him as much of a brother as she did a coworker. And she was thankful for their friendship. In her opinion, the man was not only a computer genius but also a kind human being. He didn’t care about her appearance. Nor was he interested in the size of her apartment or bank account.

“Is it that time already? I’m not really hungry yet.” Actually, the way she felt at the moment, she didn’t think she’d be able to stomach any kind of food for the remainder of the day. Thoughts of Wes Robinson’s smart-mouthed remarks were still making her blood boil.

“It’s nearly twelve,” he said with a frown, then added temptingly, “and I brought enough dewberry cobbler for the both of us, too.”

Sighing, she put down her pencil and rose to her feet. For George’s sake, she’d do her best to have lunch and try to appear normal.

“Okay,” she told him. “Let me log out and we’ll go.”

Once she left her desk, the two of them walked through the work area until they reached a fair-sized break room equipped with a row of cabinets, refrigerator, microwave, hot plate and coffee machine.

Even though it was lunchtime, only a handful of people were sitting at the long utility tables. Since Robinson Tech was located in downtown Austin, most of the employees who worked in Vivian’s department went out to lunch. There were several good eating places within walking distance and they all strived to give quick service to the workers on a limited time schedule. But usually Vivian chose to bring her own lunch and remain in the building.

“Looks like most of your friends are out today,” George said as the two of them took seats across from each other. “Guess they don’t mind walking in the cold.”

Vivian didn’t mind the cold, either. But she did mind sitting at a table with a group of giggling women with little more on their minds than the latest hairdo, a nail salon or a man.

“The wind was very cold this morning,” she agreed. “I was already here at the building before the heater in my car ever got warm.”

As she’d readied herself for work this morning, she’d also dressed more warmly in dark gray slacks and dress boots. The gray cardigan she’d pulled over her white shirt had looked perfectly appropriate to her, but now, as she glanced down at herself, she was doubting her fashion choices.

Damn Wes Robinson! What did he know about women and sex and romance, anyway?

Probably a whole lot more than you do, Vivian. It’s been weeks since you’ve been on a date, and that evening turned out to be as exciting as watching a caterpillar slowly climb a blade of green grass.

“Well, Mr. Robinson’s office must have been plenty warm,” George commented between bites of sandwich. “You looked pretty hot when you got back to your desk.”

Vivian shot her friend an annoyed look. “You noticed?”

He smiled. “I just happened to look up. Did anything go wrong with the meeting?”

She let out a heavy breath. “I just don’t agree with some of the man’s ideas, that’s all. And frankly, I’ll be glad when the introduction of My Perfect Match is over and done with. I’m a computer developer, George. I don’t work in advertising.”

“But you are going to do the TV spot in the morning, aren’t you?”

The smirk on her face revealed exactly how she felt about being on a national television show that pulled in millions of viewers each morning. “I have no choice. Wes—I mean, Mr. Robinson—wants me to explain how the app works.”

“Well, it is your brainchild,” George reasoned.

Reaching across the table, she gave his hand a friendly pat. “I could’ve never created the app without your help, George. You’re the wizard here. As far as I’m concerned, you can explain how the thing works far better than I.”

He chuckled. “Only the technical parts. All those questions and what they’re supposed to do for the person answering them—well, that’s more your line.”

Vivian had stood in line for nearly ten minutes this morning at Garcia’s Deli just to get one of Mr. Garcia’s delicious pork sandwiches called the Cuban Cigar, but now each bite she took seemed to stick at the top of her throat.

Shaking her head, she said, “Not really. Those questions were compiled by a set of psychologists who are experts in human relationships. But I do believe in them. And you should, too, George. Otherwise, our little brainchild will be a bust.”

And after the way she’d defended the new app to her cynical boss, seeing it fall flat would just about kill her.

He shrugged one thick shoulder. “I’m not worried. We’ve developed some stinkers before and survived. Not everything we create is going to be a huge success.”

No. In this age of fast-moving technology, it was hard to predict what the public would spend its hard-earned money on. Yet Vivian knew first-hand that being lonely was a painful thing. Her many failures at finding true love were the main reason she’d come up with My Perfect Match. At the age of twenty-eight, she would be silly to consider herself an old maid, yet she was growing tired of playing the dating game and falling short of having any sort of meaningful relationship to show for it. Her own frustration led her to believe there were plenty of lonely people out there who’d be willing to give the app a try.

“That’s true. But I’ve really stuck my neck on the chopping block for this project. More than anything, I want it to be a huge success. That’s why I can’t falter in the interview tomorrow.”

George’s coarse, ruddy features spread into a reassuring smile. “Don’t think about your nerves. Just look into the camera and pretend you’re talking to me. You’ll be great.”

Great? Sitting in front of a television camera with Wes Robinson at her side? She’d count herself lucky to simply hold herself together.

Chapter Two

Back in Wes’s office, he was just hanging up the phone with the marketing department when his twin brother, Ben, walked through the door.

“Looks like I need to have a long talk with my secretary.” He leaned back in the desk chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Normally, Adelle knows better than to let riffraff come into my office unannounced.”

Clearly amused by his brother’s sardonic jab, Ben walked over and rested the corner of his hip on Wes’s desk. Dressed in a dapper gray suit and burgundy patterned tie, Ben was every inch the business man and more like their father than Wes would ever want to be. Full of brass and swagger, Ben went after anything and everything he wanted with the ferocity of a stalking tiger.

For a while after their father, Gerald, had appointed Ben the new COO of Robinson Tech, Wes had felt worse than slighted. He’d been cut to the core. As vice president of the developmental team, Wes was adept at presiding over operations, generating revenue, analyzing financial reports and motivating staff, along with a jillion other responsibilities that went along with the job. He could’ve handled the COO position with his eyes closed.

But Gerald had chosen to hand it to his elder twin. And to Wes the reason had been blatantly obvious. Because Ben was their father’s favorite. Which wasn’t hard to understand, given the fact that Ben had the same aggressive business tactics as their father, while Wes considered hard work and integrity the best way to climb the corporate ladder.

Grinning, Ben said, “I’m glad to see you’re getting your wit back.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d ever lost it,” Wes quipped.

Ben thoughtfully picked up a paperweight and held it up to the florescent light. The hunk of gray glass was the shape of a dove, and Wes wondered if Ben was thinking the bird matched his younger twin. No doubt their father would say Wes was the peaceful dove of the two, while Ben was a fierce hawk. The idea stung far more than Wes wanted to admit.

“Hmm. Ever since I got the COO position, you’ve been about as warm as a polar bear. I thought you’d be over Dad’s decision by now.”

Wes inwardly bristled while trying to make sure his expression remained bland. No one could rankle him more than his twin, but he hardly wanted Ben to know that. The man was already smug enough.

“I was over it five minutes after Dad’s decision was announced,” Wes told him.

Ben’s expression said he found Wes’s statement laughable. Which came as no surprise. From the years when they were small boys until now, the two of them had been rivals in everything, including their parents’ love and admiration. And Wes supposed he’d spent most all of his thirty-three years trying to prove he was equal or better than his slightly older brother.

“If that’s the case, then why have you been giving me the cold shoulder?”

“That’s all in your mind,” Wes told him.

Placing the dove back on the desk, Ben rose to his feet and walked over to the wall of plate glass. Wes watched as his brother stood in a wide stance, his hands linked at his back as he stared out at the city skyline.

“If it’s not the COO position that’s bothering you, then you’re upset with me about my search for our Fortune heritage. I would’ve thought you’d want to know Keaton Whitfield is our half brother.”

Wesley heaved out a weary breath. Crashing Kate Fortune’s ninetieth birthday party and creating a scandalous scene had been bad enough. But Ben hadn’t stopped there. He’d set out on a wild search to dig up hidden branches of the family tree, and in doing so, he’d already unearthed one of their father’s illegitimate children.

“I don’t have any complaints about Keaton—not personally. It’s you and this dogged search you’re making. Just for once I wish you’d stop and consider Mother’s feelings in this matter. How do you think all of this makes her feel? Can you imagine the pain and humiliation she must feel to know that her husband cheated on her, not just once, but probably many times?”

“Damn it, Wes, I’m not on a quest to punish our mother. I want Dad’s rightful place in the Fortune family to be reestablished. I want the Fortunes, especially Kate, to have to acknowledge the truth publicly.”

Wes snorted. “The truth! Regarding our father, we don’t know what the hell the truth might be. Dad is hiding things about his past. Rachel already figured out that much when she found some of Dad’s old correspondence and the driver’s license with his name listed as Jerome Fortune. But as far as I’m concerned, Dad can keep his secrets. I’m perfectly content with the number of siblings I have now. And I sure don’t need the Fortune name tacked on to Robinson just to make me feel important.”

With a shake of his head, Ben walked back over to Wes’s desk, but this time he didn’t take a seat. Instead, he stood, his hands jammed in the pockets of his trousers as he gazed down at his brother.

“We see everything about this Fortune thing differently. Wouldn’t you like to know the truth about our father?”

Wes answered, “Not if the truth hurts.”

Ben grimaced. “Did you ever think that restoring the integrity of our father’s heritage might help mend some of the cracks in our family?”

Wes wanted to ask him how uncovering Gerald’s true parentage could possibly mend years of their father’s deceit, but he didn’t bother. Instead, he said, “I’m not the only one against this quest of yours. Most of our siblings side with me on this thing. The Robinson family doesn’t need the bad publicity that this expedition of yours might bring to our name and Dad’s legacy in the business world.” He leveled a challenging look at his twin. “In the end, Ben, what will we really gain?”

“The truth. Justice. Vindication. Take your pick. Although I doubt any of those reasons are enough to satisfy you.”

Knowing he was wasting his time and effort on the Fortune family matter, Wes decided to move their conversation elsewhere. “I was about to go to lunch. Was there some reason you stopped by my office this morning? Other than to discuss Dad’s hidden past?”

“Actually, I stopped by to ask you about the new app you’re promoting for Valentine’s Day. I hear you’re getting television coverage.”

“That’s right. Tomorrow, in fact. A colleague and I will be doing a live remote for Hey, USA from here in my office.”

“A national morning show? Impressive,” Ben said, then grinned slyly. “I’m surprised you managed to garner their attention. You must be doing something right, little brother.”

Even though physical wrestling matches with his twin had ended in their high school days, there were times Wes still got the playful urge to box his brother’s jaw.

“Thanks, but in case you haven’t noticed, we do have an excellent marketing department at Robinson Tech,” Wes told him. “And given the fact that dating and love and all that sort of nonsense usually garner lots of attention, it wasn’t hard for them to snare a segment on Hey, USA.”

Ben shot his brother a patient smile. “Nonsense? Sorry, brother, but you have a lot to learn. Finding the right girl to love is what life is all about. When you meet finally meet her, you’ll understand completely.”

Wes couldn’t imagine any woman making him want to step into the role of husband and father. Not with the example Gerald had set for his sons.

“There is no right girl,” Wes told him. “Not for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. How are the wedding plans coming along?”

“Everything is on track, I think.”

“I’m assuming the wedding is going to be a big affair,” Wes stated the obvious. He’d already overheard his brother discussing an orchestra and enough bottles of expensive champagne to float a battleship.

“Ella deserves the very best. I’ve told her she can have anything she wants and I’m going to make sure she gets it.” His features grew soft. “When you really love a woman, Wes, you want to give her the world. When the time comes, you’ll understand that part of it, too.”

Wes could understand his brother wanting to give his fiancée the best of everything. From what he understood, Ella was raised by a single mom in a household with very little money. To make matters worse, her younger brother had cerebral palsy and needed extra care. What did surprise Wes was the amount of love and affection he saw on Ben’s face each time he spoke of his fiancée. Wes had never imagined his brother capable of such tender feelings. But somehow Ella had managed to bring out the gentle side of the tiger.

“I’m glad you want to make Ella happy. She does deserve it. But as for me, I’m content to let you be the married twin. I’m staying single.”

“Never say never, brother,” Ben warned. “When you stand up at the wedding as my best man, the love bug just might bite you.”

“I’ll be sure and wear plenty of bug spray underneath my tux,” Wes replied.

Chuckling, Ben started toward the door. “I’m off to lunch. Good luck on tomorrow’s remote. If I’m not in a meeting at that hour, I’ll try to drop by and watch you in action.”

“I’ll do my best not to let the company down.”

With his hand on the doorknob, Ben paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. “That’s one thing I never worry about.”

Wes might have lost the COO position to his twin, but he could never blame Ben for Gerald’s decision. No matter the rivalry between the two of them, he and Ben had the special bond of love that most twins shared. As far as Wes was concerned, their bond might get a bit frazzled at times, but it would never be broken.

“Thanks, Ben.”

Once his brother disappeared through the door, Wes left his desk and grabbed a heavy jacket from a small closet. Outside his office, he paused at his secretary’s desk. At eighty years old, Adelle should have been gray and prune-faced. Instead, her red, perfectly coifed hair was merely threaded with gray and her smooth skin could have been a poster for the Fortune Youth Serum. Wes figured most women Adelle’s age had given up working long ago. But Adelle showed very little sign of slowing down, much less heading for a rocking chair. Each day after work, she walked a mile, then stopped at her favorite bar for a gin and tonic.

At the moment, she was peering at him over the top of pink-framed reading glasses.

“I’m going down the street for lunch,” he informed her. “Is there anything on my agenda before one thirty?”

She glanced at a spiral-bound notepad lying on the left side of the desk, and Wes inwardly shook his head. The woman worked for one of the most technically advanced computer companies in the world, but she chose to use paper and pencil. Wes overlooked Adelle’s archaic work preferences, mainly because he liked her and couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. And as a secretary, she was priceless. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if she used a chisel and stone. All that mattered to him was that she always kept his office running smoothly.

“No. Nothing until two,” she declared. “And that meeting is with Mort. I’ve cut you thirty minutes for him. Is that enough time?”

Mort Conley was a member of the same developmental team that included Vivian Blair. The young guy was a guru at creating computer commands, but he lacked the creative imagination to create an innovate product on his own, like Vivian had with My Perfect Match. Still, Wes respected his enthusiasm and had agreed to look at a new app design related to sports fans.

“Should be plenty,” he answered. “And I’ll be back before two.”

Wes started to move away from the secretary’s desk, but she stopped him with another question.

“What did you do to Ms. Blair? She stalked out of your office like she wanted to murder somebody.”

It wasn’t unusual for Adelle to speak her mind with Wes. After all, she’d been his secretary for many years, and over that time they’d grown close. Still, it surprised him that she’d taken that much notice of Vivian Blair.

“I didn’t do anything to her. I simply told her to be prepared for the TV segment in the morning.”

Clearly unconvinced, the woman smirked at him. “Before today I’ve never seen as much as a frown on Vivian’s face. You must have said something mean—or threatened her in some way. What were you thinking? She’s one of the brightest workers on the developmental team! Along with that, she’s a sweet little soul who wouldn’t swat a bee even if it was stinging her.”

Vivian had hardly come off as a sweet little soul this morning when he’d voiced his personal feelings about her computer-generated idea of dating, Wes thought. To Adelle he said, “I wasn’t aware you knew Vivian so well.”

His secretary let out an unladylike snort. “You don’t have to have supper with a person every night to know her. Women have instincts about other women and plenty of other things. You ought to understand that, Mr. Robinson.”

Considering the vast difference in their ages, it seemed ridiculous for Adelle to call him “Mr. Robinson,” a fact he’d pointed out to her many times before. But she insisted that calling him Wes wouldn’t appear professional, so he’d given up trying to change her.

“Ah, yes. Women and their instincts,” he said drily. “They’re always right. I’m sure your late husband never argued with you.”

“Rudy always respected my opinion, God rest his soul. That’s why we celebrated fifty-five years of marriage before he passed on. You need to remember to respect Vivian’s opinion—whether you agree with it or not.”

Wes stared at her. “Have you been pressing your ear against the door of my office?”

“I hardly need to,” she retorted, then turned her attention back to the work on her desk.

As Wes made his way out of the Robinson Tech office building, he mentally shook his head. This morning, he’d heard all he wanted to hear about women and dating and love. Yet as he passed the area where Vivian Blair worked, he found himself wondering if she was still miffed at him. And wondering, too, if she ever went out to lunch with a man, or a romantic dinner in the evening.

While heading down the sidewalk to his favorite bar and grill, Wes very nearly smiled at that last notion. He couldn’t imagine Vivian Blair finding her perfect match in a dimly lit café with violin music playing sweetly in the background and soft candlelight flickering in her hazel eyes. No, she’d be looking for her perfect man in a stuffy computer lab.

* * *

The next morning before she left her apartment, Vivian gave her image one last glance in the mirror. Last night she’d agonized for hours over what to wear for the television segment. When Wes had suggested she not look so studious, her first instinct had been to go out and find a dress that showed plenty of cleavage and lots of leg, a pair of fishnet stockings and platform heels. If he wanted a ditzy bimbo to represent Robinson Tech, then she’d give him one. But in the end, she had too much pride to make such a fool of herself. She didn’t need to show Wes she could be sexy. She needed to prove that a compatible mate was far more important than flaming-hot chemistry.

Stepping back from the cheval mirror, she adjusted the hem of the close-fitting black turtleneck, then smoothed her hands over the hips of the matching black slacks she’d chosen to wear. The garments weren’t frilly or feminine, but their close-fitting cut revealed her slender curves. And her golden hoop earrings were far more daring than the pearl studs she normally wore to work.

Wes Robinson would be unhappy because she didn’t look like a sex kitten, Vivian supposed. But she didn’t care. She was hardly going to change her style or her viewpoint for him.

Some fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in the underground parking garage of Robinson Tech and rode the elevator up to the floor that housed the developmental team, along with Wes’s office.

By the time she neared her work space, George was already there waiting for her to arrive.

Glancing at his watch, he said, “Damn, Vivian, I thought you were going to be late.”

“I had a bad night and slept through the alarm,” she explained. Actually, bad night was an understatement. She’d lain awake for hours, her thoughts vacillating between Wes’s infuriating remarks and concerns about the television interview. When she’d applied her makeup, she’d tried her best to hide the circles of fatigue beneath her eyes. “Do I look okay? I mean, for television?”

He let out a low whistle, and Vivian laughed.

“Thanks, George, for your vote of confidence. I definitely need it this morning. My stomach is fluttering like it’s full of angry bees.”

“I’ll go fetch you a cup of coffee with plenty of cream. That should help.”

“No! Thank you, George. My nerves are already frazzled enough without a dose of caffeine.” To be honest, she was about to jump out of her skin. The notion of being on national television was scary. Especially to someone who’d practically wilted into a faint when she’d been forced to give a salutatorian speech at her high school graduation ceremony. Yet if she was being honest with herself, she had to admit it was the thought of seeing Wes again that was really tying her stomach into knots. Which was ridiculous. She’d worked closely with the man for several years now.

Yes, but she’d never had an argument about love and sex and marriage with him before.

Turning to her desk, Vivian flipped on her computer and locked her handbag in the bottom drawer.

“Hey, Viv, good luck on the TV spot this morning. Are you ready to face the camera?”

Vivian looked around to see Justine, a fellow developer, standing next to George at the entrance of the cubicle. The petite young blonde wearing a short, chic hairdo and a tight pencil skirt was more Wes’s style, Vivian couldn’t help thinking.

“Thanks, Justine. I’m telling myself I’m ready whether I am or not. Actually, I wish you or George would take my place in this interview. I feel like I’m headed toward a firing squad.”

Justine laughed. “George and I aren’t camera-friendly. We’re tech geeks, right, George?”

The burly man chuckled. “Right. But with you representing us, you can show everybody that it’s our team that keeps this company in the black. Without our creations, they wouldn’t have anything to sell. If My Perfect Match becomes a hit, we might actually get the recognition around here that we deserve.”

“And a bonus to go with it,” Justine added on a hopeful note.

“Oh, thanks, you two,” Vivian said drily. “I really needed that added pressure right now.”

George glanced at his watch. “You’d better head on to the boss’s office,” he warned. “You don’t want to be late.”

Already turning to leave, Justine said, “And I’m going to go tune in to Hey, USA. Do us proud, Viv.”

Moments later, as Vivian headed to Wes’s office, the word proud continued to waltz through her head. Yes, she had pride in her work as a developer and pride as a woman who had her own ideas of what made relationships work. This morning when the camera started rolling, she had to make sure she was strong, persuasive and full of conviction, even if Wes believed her ideas were a bunch of crap.

When she reached Adelle’s desk, the secretary waved her onward. “I should warn you, it’s a madhouse in there, Vivian. Don’t let the chaos rattle you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Vivian told her, while thinking it wasn’t the broadcast crew she was concerned about; it was her irritating boss.

Resisting the urge to smooth her hair, Vivian opened the door to Wes’s office and stepped inside. In that instant, she realized Adelle’s warning was correct. The place was a jumbled mess of equipment and people. Behind Wes’s desk, near the vast window overlooking the city, lights and cameras were being set up to garner the best angle. Cables and electrical wirings were being pulled here and there over the polished parquet, while, across the room, a makeup person was trying to brush powder across Wes’s forehead.

“Get that stuff away from me,” he ordered the diminutive blonde chasing after him with a long-handled makeup brush. “I don’t care if my face shines.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Robinson, but the glare of the light—”

Before the harried woman could finish her plea, Wes quickly walked over to Vivian standing uncertainly in the middle of the room.

“Good morning, Ms. Blair. Are you ready for this?” He waved a hand to the commotion of the crew behind them.

She drew in a bracing breath, while trying to ignore the way his blue eyes were making a slow, deliberate search of her face. What was the man thinking? That she needed help from the makeup woman? The idea stung.

“I think so. I’ve been going over all the things I need to say about My Perfect Match. I just hope the interviewer asks the right questions. Do you know what anchorperson will be doing our segment?”

“Ted Reynolds. I rarely watch television, so I’m not that familiar with the guy. Are you?”

Vivian rubbed her sweaty palms down the sides of her hips. “Yes. He’s the darling of the network morning shows and the reason Hey, USA is such a hit.”

“Great. The more star power, the better for us,” Wes remarked, then suddenly wrapped his hand over her shoulder. “Are you okay, Vivian? You’re looking very pale.”

If she resembled a ghost, then the shock of his touch was taking care of the problem. Hot blood was shooting straight from his hand on her shoulder all the way to her face. He’d never touched her before. Not like this. Maybe their fingers had inadvertently brushed from time to time, but he’d never deliberately put his hand on her. Why had he suddenly decided to touch her today of all days?

Don’t be stupid, Vivian. The man is simply steadying you because you look like a wilted noodle ready to fall at his feet. That’s all it means. Nothing more.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. “I just want this to be over with so I can get back to work.”

She was trying to decide how to disengage her shoulder from his hand without appearing too obvious, when a member of the production crew spoke up.

“Mr. Robinson, it’s nearly time to go on the air. We need you and Ms. Blair to take your seats and let us wire you with earpieces.”

The thin young man with a shaved head, red goatee and skintight black jeans motioned to the two of them, prompting Vivian to ask, “Who is he?”

“A guy who wishes he was in Hollywood instead of Austin,” Wes said drily, then added in a more serious tone, “actually, his name is Antonio. He’s the manager of this affiliate crew.”

With his hand moving to the small of her back, Wes ushered her forward. “Come on. Let’s go put on our act.”

Act? Wes might be planning to put on an act for the camera. But Vivian was going to speak straight from the heart. Whether he liked it or not.

Chapter Three

Five minutes later, Wes and Vivian sat side by side in a pair of dark blue wingback chairs and stared at a monitor positioned in front of them, yet out of view of the camera lens.

A few steps to their left, Antonio stood at the ready, his finger pointed at the monitor. “Get ready,” he instructed. “As soon as this commercial ends, Ted will greet you and introduce you to the viewing audience.”

Vivian’s heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could hardly hear herself think. As much as she wanted to duck behind the chair and hide from the camera, she had to remain at Wes’s side and face the viewing audience.

Her hands laced tightly together upon her lap while her mouth felt as if she’d just eaten a handful of chalk. Just as she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t going to panic, she felt a hand at the side of her face.

Turning slightly, she realized with a sense of shock that the hand belonged to Wes and his fingers were gently tucking her hair behind her ear.

“So everyone can see your face better,” he explained under his breath.

As if Vivian wasn’t already shaken enough, the man had to start touching her like a familiar lover! The idea of being on television must be doing something to him, she thought.

Sucking in a deep breath, she resisted the urge to shake her hair loose so that it would drape against her cheek. “I think—”

Antonio suddenly interrupted her retort. “Here we go,” he warned. “Three, two, one—you’re on!”

Vivian straightened stiffly in her seat and stared dazedly at the television monitor, while inches away, Wes leaned comfortably back and, with an easy smile, gazed at the camera.

What a ham! During the years she’d been at Robinson Tech, she’d not heard of anyone in the company’s developmental team or its vice president being on television. Yet he was behaving as though he did this sort of thing every day.

Just as she was thinking Wes ought to go into the acting profession, Ted Reynolds’s image popped onto the screen. Dressed in a flamboyant, brick-red jacket and a blue patterned tie, he had subtly highlighted hair slicked back from his broad face. Through the earpiece she could hear his voice giving the two of them a routine greeting and introduction.

Once they’d responded to his welcoming words, Ted quickly slipped into the role of interviewer. When he asked Wes to give the audience an overview of the company, her boss smoothly went into a brief summary of what Robinson Tech was all about, and the huge strides it had made in recent years at providing the consumer with affordable, up-to-date technology for use in homes and offices.

While Wes was doing a flawless job at praising the company’s capabilities and progress, Vivian was trying her hardest to remain focused on the words being exchanged between the two men. But she was rapidly losing the battle. Instead of following their conversation, her mind began drifting to the ridiculous. Like the tangy scent of expensive cologne wafting from Wes’s white dress shirt. The way his dark hair lay in mussed waves and the shape of his long fingers resting against his thigh. On his right hand he wore a heavy ring set with onyx, but the left hand was bare. No, she thought wryly. Wes wouldn’t be wearing a ring on his left. Not unless a perfect princess came along and swept him up in a cloud of bliss.

Stop it, Vivian! Get your mind back on track! Otherwise, you’re going to be lost.

The words of warning going off in her head prompted her to give herself a hard mental shake and stare intensely at the monitor. Maybe if she kept her eyes on Ted Reynolds, she’d forget all about Wes’s nearness.

The popular host continued, “In the past few years, Robinson Tech has given us some great products. The tablet for kids—when it first came on the market, my daughter was jumping up and down for it. And by the way, she loves it. Do you believe this new app will be as successful as some of the more popular items your company has produced in the past?”

Vivian looked over at Wes and wondered just how much acting this was going to require from her boss. Successful? She clamped her lips shut to prevent a nervous laugh from bursting out of her. Why didn’t he be honest and tell Ted he thought it was a crock of crap? Just as he’d told her less than twenty-four hours ago?

An engaging grin brought the hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and Vivian had to stifle a groan. He’d certainly never shown this charming side of himself when she was around. In fact, she’d never dreamed he possessed an ounce of playfulness. Moment by moment, she was learning there were many facets of Wes that she’d never seen before. Or was this just all a part of his act? she wondered.

“I have a great amount of confidence in our new app. On the surface it might appear that My Perfect Match is designed for young people, but actually it’s geared for all ages. After all, love has no age limit. Don’t you agree?”

The host chuckled slyly. “I’d better agree, Wes. Otherwise, my wife will have me sleeping in the doghouse tonight.”

Oh, please, Vivian wanted to shout. My Perfect Match was nothing to jest about.

She noticed Wes was chuckling along with Ted as though the two of them were sharing a private joke about the opposite sex. The idea stirred her temper as much as Wes’s nearness was disturbing her senses.

Ted went on, “So you’re telling me that all people interested in finding a mate, no matter their age, can get results using My Perfect Match?”

“I’m absolutely certain of it,” Wes answered without hesitation.

The anchor appeared surprised at Wes’s unwavering response, while Vivian was downright stunned. She’d expected him to give himself a little wiggle room, just in case the app did fail. Was this more of his pretense? If it was, then what else did he go around pretending?

“Wow, that’s quite a statement,” Ted responded. “Especially coming from the vice president of the company.”

“Vice President of Research and Development,” Wes corrected him.

“Uh, okay. Well, can you tell me how this is supposed to work?” A leering grin came over the man’s face. “Say I’m a lonely guy looking for a woman to settle down with. How will the app help me?”

“It’ll save you a big bar tab,” Wes quipped, then softened his response with another charming grin. “Seriously, I think Vivian can better answer that question.”

Vivian felt like a million eyes were suddenly focusing on her face. Her heart kicked into an even faster pace, sending a loud whooshing noise to her ears. She darted a glance at Wes, then froze a wide-eyed gaze on the monitor and Ted’s smirking face.

“Good morning again, Vivian.”

She desperately needed to clear the ball of nerves in her throat, but it was too late, so instead she swallowed. The effort practically strangled her, making her voice sound more like a squeak. “Good morning.”

The show host gave her a wide, plastic smile and Vivian promised herself she’d never again tune in to Hey, USA.

“I hear you are the brains behind this new technical device to find love,” he said. “Would you care to explain to our viewing audience exactly how the app works?”

Shifting slighting on the seat, she resisted the urge to swallow a second time. “Uh—yes, it matches you with the right people. I mean—right person.”

“Could you elaborate a little?” Ted urged.

“Oh, well—it’s the questions. And how you answer and—that sort of thing.”

Oh, Lord, I’m making a mess of this, she thought frantically. She had to pull herself together before she made a complete idiot of herself!

“Okay, say I answer all the questions listed on the program,” the interviewer went on. “Then what? A woman out there looking for her perfect man decides if she likes my answers? Isn’t that the same premise of all the dating sites being advertised nowadays?”

“No—My Perfect Match is different. A woman won’t decide if she likes you—the computer will do the deciding,” Vivian attempted to correct him.

The popular television personality chuckled, and Vivian couldn’t decide whether she wanted to crawl under her chair or throw her shoe straight through the monitor.

“I’m not sure I follow,” he said. “A computer is going to tell me who my perfect mate is? Look, I’m all for new technology, but when it comes to a person’s love life, that all sounds pretty cold to me.”

She said, “Cold—hot—temperature doesn’t come up on the app’s questions.”

“Then what does come up, Vivian? A criminal background check?” he asked, then burst out laughing at his own crude joke.

How to avoid jerks like you, Vivian wanted to say. Instead, she said through tight lips, “Those types of candidates will automatically be ejected from the system.”

“That’s good to know,” Ted replied. “But I’m still looking for the flawless woman. Tell me exactly how My Perfect Match will find her?”

“I—think—” Her words trailed away in confusion and she darted a helpless glance at Wes.

Thankfully he picked up the rest of her sentence as though they’d planned it that way.

“I think what Vivian is trying to say is that My Perfect Match takes the doubt out of dating. It’s all about being compatible, rather than a person’s appearance or the chemistry between two people. Isn’t that right, Viv?”

Smiling, he looked at her, and for a moment all Vivian could do was gaze into his eyes. She’d never noticed them being so blue before or so full of warmth.

“Oh—yes,” she gushed. “Absolutely.”

“Well, I must admit this is a new concept. And you definitely sound confident about its abilities,” Ted said to Wes. “Would you be willing to trust your love life with My Perfect Match?”

“I certainly would,” Wes said without a pause. “I’m more than happy to let the app tell me who I need to be dating.”

The morning show host appeared completely amazed by Wes’s announcement. “You mean you’re telling me that you plan to use My Perfect Match?”

“I plan to start tomorrow.”

Vivian’s head jerked in Wes’s direction. Had he lost his mind? To hear him tell it, everything he’d been spouting about the app was pure hogwash. Ted Reynolds and the viewing audience might not know it, but she certainly did. Why had Wes suddenly made such a wild promise? And on national TV!

“Did you hear that, folks? Wes Robinson isn’t afraid to put himself on the dating market! He’s just vowed to use My Perfect Match to find his perfect lady. I can promise you that Hey, USA will certainly be following the outcome of this romantic venture!”

While Vivian was trying to make sense of what had just happened, the interview wrapped up. And even after a crew member removed her earpiece, she continued to sit watching dazedly as the broadcast crew carried its equipment out of Wes’s office.

Once the room was finally quiet again, Wes walked over to the wall of plate glass and let out a hefty sigh.

As Vivian watched him stare moodily out at the city, she forced herself to her feet. The past few minutes had twisted her nerves so tight she felt utterly drained, and for a moment she wondered if her legs would hold her upright.

“Well, that turned out to be a hell of a mess,” he said.

Vivian winced with regret. Of course he was disgusted. She’d let him down in a big way and made herself look like an imbecile in the process.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’ve never done anything like this before. The second we went on the air, my mind went blank. And Ted Reynolds wasn’t helping matters. He was—”

She was searching for the right word when Wes found it for her.

“Being an ass,” he finished.

She took a few tentative steps forward until she was standing close enough to see his brows pull into a scowl.

“You noticed?” she asked.

“Hell yes, I noticed.”

Realizing she was twisting the frames of her eyeglasses, she eased her grip and thrust her hands behind her. “Well, I’m not going to use him as an excuse for my breakdown. Everything I wanted to say about My Perfect Match came out wrong.”

His expression a picture of frustration, he turned and closed the distance between them. “Forget about it, Vivian. It’s over and done with. And frankly, what you said or how you said it doesn’t matter now. I’m the one who came out of this looking like a fool.”

Stunned that he was being so magnanimous about the whole thing, she stared at him. “You? What are you talking about? You didn’t miss a beat. You made My Perfect Match sound like something every single person should purchase.”

He rolled his eyes. “I realize you were visiting another planet during our interview, but surely you heard me say I’d be using the app for my own personal dating agenda.”

She tried to keep the dismay she was feeling off her face. “I heard. But I don’t understand your frustration. Ted Reynolds will never know if you use My Perfect Match. I doubt we’ll hear from him or the show’s producers again.”

“If this was just a phony promise made to a jackass television host, I wouldn’t care. But I was also speaking to a national audience. Many of whom purchase and use Robinson Tech products. They expect me to be forthright about myself and my company. Not to mention all the curiosity this is going to generate with the public. Everyone is going to be watching like a hawk to see what happens with me and this—dating thing of yours.”

Vivian rubbed fingers against her furrowed brow. She should be happy that her boss had managed to get himself in such a predicament. His misery was fitting payback for all that ridicule of My Perfect Match he’d spouted to her yesterday. Yet surprisingly, seeing the harried tension on his face right now didn’t give her the slightest feeling of satisfaction.

“I see what you mean,” she said thoughtfully. “As a representative of Robinson Tech, you feel obligated to follow through on your promise.”

“It’s a relief to see your brain is working again, Ms. Blair.”

One minute he used her first name and the next he reverted back to “Ms. Blair.” His vacillation made her wonder how he thought of her. As Vivian the woman, or Ms. Blair the computer developer? Either way, she wanted to tell him she’d had enough of his insults for one day, but she’d already put her job in enough jeopardy with the interview debacle.

“Well, if that’s the way you feel—I mean, if you’re actually going through with your vow to use My Perfect Match, then it’s only right that I use it, too. After all, I’m the one who has real confidence in the app.”

With a faint smirk on his lips, he stepped closer.

“You? Use the app?”

The incredulous tone of his voice made her lift her chin to a challenging angle. “What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll prove you wrong about My Perfect Match?”

“I hope you do prove me wrong and this blasted thing turns out to be a roaring success,” he countered, then slithered a skeptical look down the length of her body. “I just wasn’t aware that you were looking for a perfect man.”

I’m certainly not looking at him now. Vivian bit down on her tongue to keep the words from leaping out of her mouth.

“In this day and age, the task of finding a perfect man seems like a hopeless quest, but I’ve not given up the search,” she said primly, then shoved her eyeglasses onto her face. “And now that I’ve created My Perfect Match, I feel much more hopeful of finding him.”

The sly grin spreading over his lips was followed by a suggestive gleam in his blue eyes. One that left Vivian feeling so uncomfortable, she wanted to run out of his plush office as fast as her legs would carry her.

“Well, you’ve just made this whole fiasco more bearable and interesting. I’m willing to bet I find my perfect woman long before you find your perfect man.”

Thrilled for the chance to prove him wrong, she stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal.”

His fingers curled firmly around hers, and Vivian tried to ignore the heat racing up her arm and stinging her cheeks with color.

“Great,” he said. “May the best man win?”

The wry taunt in his voice put enough steel in her backbone to make a metal detector blow a fuse.

“You have it all wrong, Mr. Robinson. Let’s hope love wins. For the both of us.”

* * *

Wes stared thoughtfully after Vivian as she headed out the door. Adelle passed her on the way into his office.

Since the secretary didn’t enter his private work space unless she had good reason, he knew something was up. Given the bad start to his day, he figured it wasn’t good news.

While she walked briskly into the room, her high heels clicking with every step, Wes sank into the plush chair behind his desk and wiped a hand over his face.

“Okay, what’s happened? It’s nine forty-five in the morning and you look like you already need a stiff cocktail.”

Stopping in front of his desk, she tapped the eraser of her pencil against the cherry wood. “You’ve really done it,” she quipped. “How do you expect me to get any work done when my phone is jammed with calls?”

“Adelle, you knew this interview was happening this morning. I told you to inform everyone that I’d be late returning calls.”

Her eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “Mr. Robinson, these aren’t your usual calls. This is coming from newspapers, television stations, radio and all sorts of media people. Everyone is buzzing with your announcement about My Perfect Match. I’ve been trying to put them off, but—”

“What do they want? If they’re interested in doing advertising for the app, then you should direct their calls to advertising and marketing.”

“Thank you for that helpful advice.” She shot him a tired look, then asked, “How long do you think I’ve been working here? A week or two?”

“Probably as long as the world has had white thread,” Wes said, not bothering to hide his impatience. He had more important things on his mind than listening to a lecture from his bossy secretary.

“That’s right. Longer than you can count. I believe I’ve gotten the hang of how to direct calls,” she informed him. “But I think you ought to know these calls are directed at your personal life. My impression is that the media plans to cover your so-called dates. You and the lucky lady will most likely be followed around like the hottest star of the week hounded by Hollywood paparazzi.”

“Oh, damn!”

She thrust her pencil into the hair above her right ear. “Oh, damn is right. What were you thinking?”

Ever since the interview had wrapped, Wes had been asking himself that very question. He’d accused Vivian of momentarily losing her senses; well, he’d admittedly committed the same crime.

“Clearly, I wasn’t,” he muttered, then rubbed his fingers over his closed eyelids. “It’s just that Ted Reynolds was doing his best to make a mockery of the app. I wanted to put him in his place.”

And surprisingly, Wes had wanted to come to Vivian’s defense. In spite of her ridiculous notions about finding everlasting love through a mobile app, he understood she’d worked long, tireless hours to get My Perfect Match to the public. She didn’t deserve to have her effort ridiculed in front of a national television audience. And yet, there was a part of him that wanted to open her eyes and show her that love wasn’t a cold, clinical pairing between a man and a woman. It was all about overwhelming attraction and desire. At least, that was how he wanted to imagine it. So far in his dating endeavors, he’d never experienced the euphoric state of mind called love.

“Hmm. I suppose if you find a woman who fits you like a glove, you’ll make Ted Reynolds look like more of a fool than he already is. Add to that, you’d prove Vivian’s theory about compatibility right. Which would be a good thing,” Adelle mused aloud. “And now that Ben is about to get married, it’s your turn to look for a wife.”

Wes grunted. “It’s not a written law that twins have to do everything alike, you know.”

The cell phone on Wes’s desk suddenly rang, preventing Adelle from flinging a disapproving remark at him. He picked up the phone to answer the call, but noticed she was already on her way out of the office.

“Just a minute, Adelle.”

Pausing at the door, she glanced back at him. For some odd reason, Wes suddenly wondered how the secretary had looked when she was Vivian’s age. Had she been madly in love with her husband? Or had the guy been like Wes’s father, Gerald? Unworthy of a good woman’s love? What if the dating app led Vivian to such a scoundrel?

“Was there something else?”

Adelle’s question had Wes mentally shaking himself. Vivian’s personal life was no concern of his. If any of her matches turned out to be cads, then that would be her problem.

“Yes, there was. Concerning my self-test of My Perfect Match, you can inform the media outlets I’ll be starting tomorrow. Oh, and you might also relay the message that Vivian will also be using the app—to find her perfect man,” he added drily.

Adelle looked at him with dismay. “Vivian? And you approve of that?”

Wes frowned. “Why would I disapprove?”

“Well, why indeed?” she asked with a smirk. “That sweet little thing thrown out there among all those wolves? I shudder to think who she might get tangled up with.”

Wes found it hard to imagine Vivian getting tangled up in the bedsheets with any man. She was too prim and calculating to have such a reckless encounter. “Believe me, Adelle, sweet little Vivian, as you call her, knows exactly what she’s doing.”

With a roll of her eyes, the secretary left the room, and Wes turned his attention to the phone in his hand. Before he could scroll through the call log, the face lit up with another call.

Seeing it was Ben, he drew in a bracing breath and took a seat. No doubt his twin had already heard about Wes’s declaration to use the dating app and was rolling on the floor with laughter. Well, Ben could do all the goading he wanted, Wes thought as he swiped to answer the call. When all was said and done, presenting his brother with a hefty sales number from My Perfect Match would shut him up.

* * *

When Vivian got back to Research and Development, George and Justine were waiting at her cubicle. From the guarded looks on their faces, she could tell they’d watched the live remote.

Holding up a hand to ward off their remarks, she said, “You don’t have to tell me. I was a complete disaster.”

George gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “It wasn’t all that bad.”

“Not at all,” Justine chimed in. “And you looked great with your hair like that.”

Vivian shot her a confused look, then quickly patted the top of her hair. “Like what? Is it all mussed up?”

“No,” Justine said with a giggle. “The way it’s tucked behind your ear. Gives you a really chic look.”

Just the thought of Wes’s infuriating remarks had Vivian quickly shaking her hair loose. “My hair was—just a mistake. And my mouth was even worse,” she added with a groan of misery. “Every word that passed my lips made me sound like an idiot! I’ve probably ruined any hope that My Perfect Match will be a big seller.”

“I wouldn’t think that,” George spoke up. “Uh, so what did Mr. Robinson say afterward?”

Before Vivian could answer George’s question, Justine pelted her with another.

“Probably angry, huh?”

Exhaling a long breath, Vivian moved past her coworkers and practically flopped into her desk chair. “Not exactly. I mean, Wes—uh, Mr. Robinson—isn’t the type to show much emotion. Have you two ever seen him angry?”

George and Justine both shook their heads.

Justine said, “We’re not as lucky as you, Viv. We rarely meet with the man.”

“I’m fine not to meet with him,” George put in. “Makes me nervous to have to talk to the boss.”

Justine made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Technically, he’s not our boss, George.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” George said drily. “You mess up with Wes Robinson and you’ll be outta here.”

“His twin, Ben, is the new COO. And from what I hear, Wes was pretty hacked off that he didn’t get the job.”

Her nerves already frazzled, Vivian massaged the pain gathering in the middle of her forehead. “Justine, please, give it a rest. Anybody in this building with the name Robinson is our boss. Plain and simple. Now if you two will excuse me, I need to get to work.”

“Oh? Orders from our boss?” Justine asked slyly.

Dropping her hand, Vivian looked at her coworkers. She might as well let them in on her plan, she decided. They were going to hear about it sooner or later anyway.

“Not exactly. I’m signing up on My Perfect Match. The quicker, the better.”

“What?” George stared at her with real concern.

Justine giggled. “You? On My Perfect Match? Are you kidding, Viv?”

“Not in the least. Wes is willing to give it a try. So am I.”

The concern on George’s face grew deeper as he walked over to Vivian and looked down at her. “Are you doing this just because he is?”

Was she? When Vivian had first come up with the concept of My Perfect Match, she’d certainly not been creating the app for her own personal use. In spite of everything she’d said to Wes, she still wanted to meet her suitors the old-fashioned way. After that, she’d make the decision whether they were completely compatible or not. But when Wes had insisted he was actually going to use the app, she realized she had to step up to the plate and do the same.

“If a person isn’t willing to use her own product, George, what kind of impression is that going to give the public? I’ve got to show Wes and everyone that I believe in this thing.”

“Good thing you’re not a casket maker,” Justine quipped.

George shot the other woman a tired look, then shook his head at Vivian. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Viv?”

To answer his question, Vivian picked up her smartphone and scrolled through the pages of applications until she found My Perfect Match.

“I’ve never been more certain. I’m going to find the man of my dreams. Our likes and dislikes will match precisely. We’ll have no choice but to fall in love and live happily ever after.”

Justine let out a mocking groan. “Oh, please. That’s enough to send me back to work.”

George must have had the same thought because he turned to follow Justine out of the small cubicle.

“What? No words of wisdom from you, George?”

Looking over his shoulder, the burly redhead frowned at her. “All I can say is good luck, Vivian. You’re going to need it.”

Scowling back at him, she asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you’ve set your goals mighty high.”

“Somewhere out there is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. And My Perfect Match is going to find him for me.”

“Hmm. Well, if that’s the case, then Wes Robinson is going to find the woman he wants to share the rest of his life with. So this app should make you both very happy.”

Happy? Oh, yes, Vivian thought, proving Wes wrong was going to make her ecstatic.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.