Fortune's Surprise Engagement. Nancy Robards Thompson

thing that was riding a little too high on her toned thighs—not in a trashy way, because there wasn’t a trashy thing about her. Olivia Fortune Robinson seemed to have mastered the art of classy-sexy, which was a very beautiful fine line to walk.

      And he was also treading a very fine line, because Olivia Fortune Robinson was so very off-limits, since she was practically family.

      He lifted a drink off the tray and handed it to her, then he took one for himself and raised it to hers. She looked him square in the eyes as they clinked glasses.

      “You know, they say you’ll have seven years of bad sex if you don’t look the person you’re toasting in the eyes as you say cheers,” she said.

      “I guess that means we’ll have good sex,” he said, still holding her gaze.

      “Will we?” She sipped her drink.

      He knew she was baiting him and he also knew she was probably drunker than she realized. The drinks were more powerful than they looked. The kind that went down easily and, before you knew it, knocked you flat on your ass. Probably not so dissimilar from the effect that Olivia Fortune Robinson had on men.

      “Are you hungry?” Olivia asked.

      “For food? Or did you have something else in mind?”

      She tilted her head to the side. “You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Alejandro?”

      Her words were unwavering and unabashed.

      He shrugged.

      “I made a dinner reservation for four at the Driskill Grill,” she said. “It seems my sisters can’t make it. The only thing worse than drinking alone is dining alone in a fancy restaurant. What do you say, Alejandro? Will you let me take you to dinner?”

      “That depends on what you expect in return,” he said. “Are you going to feed me and then try to take advantage of me?”

      “Absolutely.”

      This was fun. Much more fun than poring over facts and figures of the Hummingbird Ridge purchase.

      When he was fresh out of college, would he have found bantering with a clever woman preferable to dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s on the details that would make his hard-won business dream a reality? Then again, he hadn’t eaten and he was starving.

      “In that case,” he said, “how can I refuse?”

      He knocked back the last of his drink. It was a lot stronger that it appeared.

      “Good,” Olivia said, handing him another drink from the tray. “The reservation isn’t until eight o’clock. We have time to finish our cocktails.”

      They clinked glasses, locking gazes again before they sipped and settled into an uncomfortable silence. Alejandro was way too aware of how damn sexy she looked in that black dress, too intent on that full mouth that kept commanding his attention, speaking to the most primal needs in him.

      He didn’t do well with silence.

      “Is this your favorite kind of drink?” he asked.

      “Me? No. I’m all about champagne. This drink was made especially for the brides-to-be.”

      “I don’t mean to be nosy, but is everything okay with your sisters?”

      She shrugged. “I’m sure they’re fine. That reminds me. You didn’t answer my question. Do you believe in love? I’m guessing you do. Because what else would possess you to tattoo a woman’s name on your arm? Who is Anna?”

      Reflexively, his right hand found his left forearm, covered the ornate script.

      “Anna was someone who made me know that love is very real. But I also learned that love can be a total SOB, too.”

      Olivia leaned in. “You said ‘was.’ So I’m guessing that Anna is no longer in the picture?”

      The curtain of dread that always closed around him when he remembered Anna started falling. “No, she is no longer in the picture.”

      That’s all he was going to say. He was opening his mouth to change the subject when Olivia got up from her chair and sat down next to him on the love seat.

      “That’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she slurred. “People accuse me of a lot of things, but no one can ever say I go after another woman’s man. You don’t have a girlfriend who isn’t named Anna, do you, Alejandro?”

      He shook his head. His gaze fell to her lips. She was sitting enticingly close to him. Suddenly, the room temperature seemed to spike.

      “Good,” she slurred again as she slid her arms around his neck. “Because I’m going to kiss you. You don’t mind if I kiss you, do you, Alejandro?”

      Before the words hell no could pass his lips, her lips closed over his and smothered the reply.

      At first, the kiss was surprisingly gentle, tentative. She tasted like the cocktails they’d been drinking and fresh summer berries and something else he hadn’t realized he’d been craving for a very long time. When she opened her mouth wider, inviting him in, passion took over and the gentle kiss morphed into wild, ravenous need, feeding a hunger that he didn’t realize was consuming him. He reveled in it, wallowed in it, until it blocked out everything else.

      She moved against him, sliding her hands over his shoulders and down his back.

      A rush of hot need surged through him. His hands followed the outline of her curves until he cupped her bottom and pulled her closer. Damn. She felt good. Keeping one hand on her, he found the hem of her dress with his other and dipped his fingertips beneath the silky barrier that stood between them.

      When she moaned into their kiss, he wanted to pull her onto his lap.

      But she was drunk and they were in the bar of the hotel where her sister was getting married next weekend. He had enough of his wits about him to know that if she wasn’t in the shackles of too many Fuzzy Handcuffs, she probably wouldn’t be doing this. She’d probably be mortified tomorrow.

      “Alejandro, take me to your room.” Her words were hot on his neck and his body was saying Let’s go. Now.

      But he couldn’t. And not for lack of want or interest. It just wasn’t right. Not when she was like this.

      He stood up and gently tugged her to her feet.

      “What’s your room number?”