Fortune's Prince Charming. Nancy Thompson Robards

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      “Do you mind if I close the door?” Zoe asked.

      That probably wasn’t a good idea, but Zoe was already on her feet. The door clicked shut, blocking out the extraneous office noise, and they were alone.

      They’d be fine for a few minutes.

      He had a meeting with Zoe’s dad, Gerald, at three. No one was late to a meeting with the boss. He’d have to go soon, anyway. On his best days Gerald Robinson was gruff. Joaquin didn’t want to know what he’d be like if someone kept him waiting because he was flirting with his daughter.

      So that meant he could give Zoe fifteen minutes max.

      Ten actually. He’d need a few minutes to gather his thoughts and notes before he made his way to Gerald’s office.

      “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

      Zoe stared at her hands for a moment. Suddenly uncharacteristically somber.

      “You’ve been here...what, three months now?”

      “Something like that. I started in February.”

      Last December he’d moved from Miami to Horseback Hollow, Texas, a quaint little town just outside Lubbock. All but one of his brothers and his sister had moved there to be close to their father, who had relocated to work at the Redman Flight School. His dad had been mourning the loss of his wife, Joaquin’s mother, and thought the change of scenery would be good for him. Horseback Hollow had agreed with his father so well that Joaquin had decided to leave Miami and give small-town living a try, as well.

      Sometimes the grind of South Florida was just too much. Plus, he had accumulated too much excess baggage living there for so long. All he wanted to do was to lighten his load. But even though Horseback Hollow had been a good fit for his father and siblings—his dad was in love again, and his brothers and sister had met and married their future spouses there—the laid-back pace was way too slow for him.

      He’d wanted to make a new start, but after being there only a couple of weeks he’d felt as if he was stuck in a different kind of rut in the small Texas town. When his brother Matteo’s wife, Rachel, offered to put in a good word for him at Robinson Tech, Joaquin had jumped at the chance to move to Austin when Gerald Robinson, the man himself, had offered to bring him on to consult on a temporary project.

      “Since you’ve been here,” Zoe said, “you’ve worked pretty closely with my dad and you’ve had a chance to get to know him.” Her words trailed off.

      “I haven’t worked directly with him that much. But your dad is a computer genius and I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to work for Robinson.”

      Zoe raised a finger. “That’s precisely my point. He is so smart. Sometimes too smart for his own good. How can I put this delicately? Because I adore my father, I just want what’s best for him.”

      “Right,” Joaquin said. “Everyone knows you and your father are close.”

      “Joaquin, will you please help me help my father improve his image? He’s not exactly a diplomat or even a people person for that matter, and it’s really starting to take its toll.”

      Oh, hell, no. That was a recipe for disaster if he’d ever heard one. He was a computer geek, for God’s sake. Gerald probably knew more about diplomacy than he did. Well, that was stretching it, but not by much.

      “Just the other day,” Zoe continued, “I called a Robinson client who works with the South by Southwest Festival to see if I could interview him for that lifestyle blog I do for Robinson Tech. I was going to tie it into the calendar software program we have and, you know, have the event on the calendar. But you know what happened?”

      Joaquin shook his head. “What happened?”

      “The guy hung up on me. Before he did, he asked if this was Gerald Robinson’s company and when I said it was, he called my dad a bunch of names I won’t repeat and said he didn’t want anything to do with anything that Gerald Robinson was involved with and he would be taking his business elsewhere. The he hung up on me. I mean, my dad has even started offending clients. So someone needs to stage an intervention. And quick.”

      “You want me to help you stage an intervention for your father?”

      Gerald Robinson was a gruff, cranky old genius who certainly wouldn’t appreciate a temporarily contracted employee butting in where he didn’t belong. That was the quickest way to get him a first-class ticket out of there. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

      Yet one look at Zoe’s earnest face and he knew this time she was not kidding. He’d have to find a way to let her down easily.

      He smiled and shook his head. “You must have me confused with someone else, Zoe. I’m the guy who’s good with computers, not people. In fact, I could probably borrow some of those tips you’re trying to gather up for your father. This is a delicate issue. You, his daughter, might be able to go there, but the rest of us need to tread carefully. If I got involved, I guarantee you it wouldn’t be pretty.”

      She didn’t say anything. Just stared at her hands in her lap. He hated disappointing her, but this was way out of his league.

      “That website you were talking about a minute ago?” he said. “I’d rather do that. It’s more my speed than making over your father’s image.”

      She looked up and blinked as if her mind was changing gears.

      “Are you saying you’ll help me with the website?”

      “Wait. What? No.”

      “But you just said you’d rather do that, and I was only half joking when I brought up the new site a minute ago. Phil in design is swamped and I could really use some help. Otherwise, I’ll have to outsource the job. I can write the content, but all that technical HTML stuff is like a foreign language to me. Will you help me, Joaquin? Please?”

      She wrinkled her nose and gave him a tentative smile that almost seemed as if she was holding her breath waiting for his answer.

      The woman was a force of nature. He wasn’t quite sure what she’d just done there, and he obviously didn’t know what he was doing when he heard himself saying, “Sure, I’ll help you with the website. Why don’t we schedule a meeting?”

      He thought he saw a flicker of surprise in Zoe’s eyes. “Oh, thank you. Does tomorrow at three o’clock work for you?”

      He called up the calendar on his phone. “I can spare a half hour.”

      “Well, we will just have to make the most of that time, then.”

      She smiled at him as she stood and smoothed her skirt. Before he could stop himself, his gaze followed the path her hands were tracing. When he realized what he was doing, his gaze skidded back up to her face so fast, if there’d been a music to accompany the moment it would’ve sounded like a needle scratching across a vinyl record.

      Had she just played him? The treacherous waters of possibly hosting an intervention to teach Gerald Robinson manners had certainly made the thought of designing a website for the FX350 seem like a child’s birthday party in comparison.

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