Fortune's Secret Heir. Allison Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ before moving away a few feet. The spot he left was soon filled with more customers, most of whom didn’t request anything more complicated than wine. White. Red. An occasional gin and tonic. Even though he found himself lingering, she was more than capable of dealing with the requests.

      Pretty soon, that line dwindled, too, and Ben’s Manhattan was rapidly becoming a memory. There was a quartet of musicians playing old standards and the small clusters of party guests were migrating, growing larger as more family connections were drawn and discovered.

      His lips tightened and he turned away from the sight, his focus colliding with the pretty bartender, who jumped guiltily as if she’d been caught staring.

      In appearance and apparent guilelessness, she seemed the antithesis of the women with whom he’d been dealing lately, and he exhaled, giving up the notion of disinterest. He finished off the drink and headed back to the bar.

      Her eyes followed the glass when he set it, empty, in front of her. “Would you like another, sir?”

      He had a company of people who called him “sir.” “Call me Ben.”

      Her eyes flicked up to his and her lips pressed softly together.

      “And no,” he answered. “But I’ll take a mineral water.”

      She leaned sideways again and retrieved a small bottle, which she opened and poured the contents into a clean glass. She set it atop a fresh cocktail napkin and began sliding it toward him. “Firsts might be memorable, but I guess they’re not always successful.”

      He wrapped his hand around the highball glass before she could withdraw her hand, and his fingers brushed hers. “The Manhattan was perfect,” he assured. “But I’m driving.” It was only an excuse. He wanted his head clear for an entirely different purpose.

      “The party’s expected to last hours.”

      He leaned his elbow on the bar again. “What else do you know about the party?”

      Her gaze flicked past him, then back again. “Nothing, sir.”

      “Ben,” he reminded her.

      The corners of her full lips twitched. “Sir,” she repeated.

      He felt his own lips twitch despite himself. “Name badges tonight seem reserved for guests. What’s your name?”

      “Ella Thomas.”

      “How old are you, Ella Thomas?”

      Her full lips parted a little in apparent surprise. She had the faintest of spaces between her perfectly white two front teeth. It added a distinct interest to an already interesting face. Her brows were dark slashes above those translucent blue eyes; her nose was a little long and her smile was disproportionately wide.

      Interesting. Mesmerizing.

      If he’d been interested in being interested, of course.

      “We’re not really supposed to fraternize with the guests,” she was saying.

      “No problem.” He gestured at his name-tag-free lapel. “Not a guest. On the job.” He stuck his hand across the bar toward her. “Ben Robinson. Robinson Tech.” It was strange using the name. As recently as a few months ago, the company had still been called Robinson Computers.

      Such was progress.

      And regardless of the new moniker, Ella’s lush lips parted even more, clearly recognizing both the company name and his.

      Without seeming to realize she’d done so, she placed her hand in his. “You’re the COO,” she said faintly. “My brother was just reading an article about your company in Wired. He’s a, um, a computer fiend.” She seemed to realize he was still clasping her hand and quickly tugged it free.

      “And you? What are you a fiend about?”

      Her dark lashes dropped and she shook her head, smiling slightly. “Nothing except finishing school.”

      God help him. “High school?”

      At that, she looked up again, a little outraged. “I’m twenty-three!” She shook her head. “College, of course.”

      Still, God help him. He had ten years on her. “What are you studying?”

      “Accounting.”

      “Dry, dry, dry.”

      “Some might say that about computer technology, too.”

      “Computers make the world go ’round.”

      “And that all started out based on two little numbers,” she returned immediately. “Zero and one. Both of which have existed long, long before computers.”

      He realized he was smiling. “So what else do you do besides study zeroes and ones, and fill in at the last minute for missing bartenders?”

      Her smooth cheeks flushed again, which only made her blue eyes bluer. “Not much. There’s just my mom and my brother and me. I pick up as much temp work as I can to pay tuition. It’s one of the reasons why it’s taking me this long to get my degree. Never enough time or money in the day. I can only manage school part-time.”

      Ben and his brothers and sisters had been raised with every conceivable advantage. It was the one luxury of being Gerald Robinson’s offspring. They’d never once had to worry about earning money to pay tuition. Or anything else, for that matter.

      But when it came to other things? Their genius father was predictable in only one thing: being unpredictable.

      The latest of which was the reason for Ben’s presence at this damned fete of La Queen Fortune’s in the first place.

      “Are you all right?” Ella was looking at him, her dark brows pulling slightly together.

      He nodded and looked away from her to face the rest of the room, where a hum of excitement was suddenly filling the air.

      The hostess herself had finally made her appearance.

      And even if her identity wasn’t a surprise to Ben, it was clear by the whispers flying around the room that it was to all the legitimate guests there.

      The pictures he’d seen of her had told him she was small and slim. But in person, dressed in a pale silver suit with diamond jewelry glinting under the light, she seemed even more so. Then she spread her arms and smiled as brilliantly as her jewels, and her commanding voice filled the hall as the music died away.

      “Welcome, everyone, to the Silver Spur Ranch and my ninetieth birthday celebration. I am Kate Fortune.”

      All around Ben, the whispers went up a notch. Someone even gasped.

      Kate Fortune.

      Billionaire. Head of the internationally successful Fortune Cosmetics.

      And, Ben thought bitterly, the self-proclaimed matriarch of the vast and widespread Fortune clan.

      “Talk СКАЧАТЬ