knew his opinion about the recent gentrification of the neighborhood, including the project Keaton was developing. Everyone in a ten-block radius knew Johnny’s opinion and it was always negative. Lola May could keep him in line, but Francesca didn’t see her feisty boss at the moment. Then she remembered Lola May had taken off early to go watch her grandson’s Little League game. No wonder Johnny had picked tonight to give grief to Keaton.
She couldn’t quite make out Keaton’s quiet response, but from the way Johnny’s shoulders stiffened, it wasn’t what the old blowhard wanted to hear.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, boy,” Johnny was saying now, “but our people won the war against your people. Take that as hint, ya hear?”
“Are you referring to the Revolutionary War?” Keaton inclined his head. “The one that was fought over two hundred years ago?”
Johnny placed his meaty hands on his hips. “Texas never forgets.”
Francesca stepped between the two men before Keaton could answer. “Johnny, Texas wasn’t even a state at that time.” She made her voice light and teasing. No use antagonizing him. “You know we would have been the capital of the whole dang country if we’d been around back then.”
She darted a glance at Keaton, who looked like he was trying to hold back a smile, then forced her gaze to return to Johnny. If Keaton smiled at her she’d probably melt into a puddle all over the floor. This was the closest she’d been to him and the proximity made little sparks dance all over her skin.
“Damn straight, honey,” Johnny agreed. “You don’t mess with Texas.”
She put a gentle hand on his arm. “And there’s no need to mess with a man who’s just doing his job.”
Johnny shook his head. “I’m telling you, we don’t need more highfalutin types changing up the spirit of the area.”
“I wouldn’t let Lola May hear you say that,” Francesca warned, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
“Why?” Johnny leaned closer. The man had a healthy fear of the diner’s hot-tempered owner. “Don’t tell me she supports all this new stuff.”
“She’s keeping an open mind,” Francesca said, giving a small shrug. “We all need to, Johnny. I’ve lived here my whole life, but change is bound to come and it doesn’t have to be bad.” She nodded toward Keaton without making eye contact. “He may be British, but he’s got a fantastic reputation as an architect. Our neighborhood is in good hands with Keaton Whitfield.”
She held her breath as Johnny looked between her and Keaton. Other than the fact that he liked to hear himself talk, the man was basically harmless. But Francesca needed to get to her review sheet for accounting, so she didn’t want to prolong this conversation. Plus, she could feel Keaton’s gaze on her almost as if it were a physical touch. The man was seriously messing with her equilibrium.
“If you’re vouching for him, Miss Frannie, then I guess I’ll give him a chance.” He shoved a hand past her and Keaton shook it. “I’ll be keeping my eyes on you and your fancy complex.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” Keaton answered, each word clipped.
“Great.” Francesca blew out a quick breath. “Brandi,” she called. “I’d like to buy these two fine gentlemen a piece of pie.”
Johnny flashed a broad grin while Keaton held up a hand. “Generous,” he murmured, “but not—”
The other man clapped him hard on the back. “Boy, if a beautiful woman offers you pie, don’t say no.”
“Pecan for Johnny,” Francesca continued, “and apple for our friend from across the pond.”
“Got it,” Brandi shouted.
“Enjoy, fellas,” Francesca said quickly, still avoiding Keaton’s blue gaze. She hurried to the safety of her corner booth and slid in with a sigh. Crisis avoided—both Johnny making a bigger scene and her revealing what a bumbling idiot she was around Keaton.
It didn’t take long to become engrossed in her studies. Accounting was her toughest subject and the more she looked at the numbers, the more of a jumble they became in her head. She was staring at a particularly challenging problem when she felt someone approach the booth.
By the way butterflies zipped across her stomach, she didn’t even need to look up to know who it was.
“May I join you?” Keaton asked in his rich accent.
The thoughtfulness of that question made a soft warmth spread through her. Most people at the diner just plopped down when they needed something, as if Francesca’s opinion on whether she wanted company didn’t matter.
She appreciated having her opinion matter to someone, even in such an insubstantial decision.
“Or not,” Keaton continued. “I can see you’re busy. Perhaps another time.”
When he started to walk away, his mouth pressed into a thin line, she realized she hadn’t actually given him an answer.
Add rude to her list along with bumbling and idiot.
“Please sit down,” she called to him.
He turned and slipped into the seat across from her.
“How was the pie?” she asked, her words sounding embarrassingly breathless.
“Worth enduring Johnny’s company while I ate it,” he said with a half smile. “Thank you for that and for diffusing the situation. You are the prettiest knight in shining armor I’ve ever met.”
She was so busy watching to see if the half smile turned into a full grin that it took a minute for his words to sink in. Had he just called her pretty?
“How did you know I prefer apple?”
She shrugged. “Lola May’s isn’t huge. You order a slice of apple pie every night.”
“It’s the best.” He leaned a little closer. “You also know my name.”
“The diner caters to regulars. You’re becoming a regular, Keaton, so I know your name.”
“I appreciate that, Francesca,” he answered.
Lord have mercy, it was a good thing she was sitting down because the way her name sounded in his rich, cultured voice made her knees go weak.
“You know I’m an architect.”
She felt color rise to her cheeks but didn’t bother to deny it. “Yes.”
“And the bit about my reputation?”
She huffed out a soft laugh. “I guessed at that.”
One of his thick brows rose.
“Someone is sinking a ton of money into the Austin Commons project across the street. Reports say it’s going to be the new retail and residential anchor for the neighborhood. They wouldn’t leave the design to someone who couldn’t handle it.” Now she leaned in, something about the warmth in his gaze inviting her closer. “Was I wrong about you?”
“No.”
“Are you famous?”
The smile widened. “In some circles, I suppose.”
“I also heard,” she murmured, “that you’re part of the Fortune family.”
He nodded, his blue eyes turning cool as he sat back against the vinyl-covered cushion of the booth. Interesting. Most people she knew would be shouting their connection to such a powerful family from the rooftops. Keaton seemed uncomfortable that she’d mentioned it. All traces of the smile disappeared from his face, making him look no less handsome but a lot more intimidating.
“It was pretty big news in Austin when Gerald Robinson was revealed to be that Fortune heir who everyone