Chapter Three

      With his long lunches and daily putting practice, was it any wonder Christopher Fortune didn’t get much done? Kinsley mused after fielding a call from Emmett Jamison, the head of the Foundation. Even so, she’d covered for Christopher when Mr. Jamison had asked if she’d seen him. She’d explained that he’d taken a late lunch with family visiting from out of town. She didn’t mention that he’d been gone nearly two-and-a-half hours.

      She may not have agreed with the way Christopher conducted himself, but she wasn’t about to throw him under the bus. That would just make her look bad in the eyes of Mr. Jamison.

      She wanted him to see her as a problem solver, not the type of person who pointed fingers and ratted people out. Besides, with the Fortunes, blood was definitely thicker than water. If she wasn’t careful the situation might get turned around and come back to bite her. She was sure if it came down to her or Christopher Fortune, Emmett Jamison would side with the man whose last name was on his paycheck.

      Kinsley drummed her fingers on the desk. The Fortunes were all about family. She knew Mr. Jamison would excuse him for that. She couldn’t deny that she envied Christopher and his huge support system. What was it like to come from such a large, protective family that would circle the wagons at a moment’s notice?

      Kinsley had no idea. Growing up the only child of an alcoholic father and a mother who couldn’t stand up for herself didn’t give her much experience to draw from.

      She and her mother only had each other to intervene when her father was on a drunken bender. When they did stand up to him, there was always hell to pay.

      Her grandmother—her mom’s mom—had passed away when Kinsley was about eight, but Grandma hadn’t had the wherewithal to extract her daughter from what Kinsley would later look back on and realize was a situation that had robbed her mother of her life.

      But wasn’t hindsight always perfect?

      From the moment Kinsley was old enough to realize she could take care of herself, she vowed she would never personally depend on a man. For that matter, she preferred to not depend on anyone, because didn’t people always let you down?

      She’d only had two boyfriends, and both of them had proven that to be true. They were hard lessons, but she’d learned. And she prided herself on not repeating the same mistakes.

      Family ranks or not, Emmett had said he was concerned because he had received a call from a woman named Judy Davis who was perplexed because she’d emailed the community relations office three times about a donation she wanted to make and still hadn’t heard back. She was beginning to think the Foundation didn’t want her money.

      Kinsley made an excuse that there had been technical difficulties with the email account and had assured Mr. Jamison that she and Christopher would make sure everything was working as it should as soon as he got back...which should be any minute.

      Technically, Christopher was being difficult. Right? Did that count as technical difficulties? She hoped so. Because it was all she had.

      She would cover for Christopher this time, but they were definitely going to have a little heart to heart.

      She wrote down Judy Davis’s information and assured Mr. Jamison that they would follow up with her today and make sure she knew how much her donation was needed and appreciated.

      Kinsley’s cheeks burned.

      She didn’t appreciate being left holding the bag for matters like this, especially when it was something Christopher had insisted on handling. The new Foundation Community Relations email address had been her idea, but they had decided to split the work: as she went out into the community, Kinsley would get the word out about the new way to contact the Foundation; as vice president of community relations, Christopher had insisted on being the one to respond to the emails.

      Thank goodness Kinsley had insisted on knowing the password. Christopher had agreed that it was a good idea for more than one person to have access to the account, but he had assured her that he would check it regularly. She had taken him at his word. Kinsley mentally kicked herself for trusting so blindly. People might have been reaching out for help or there could be more potential funding for the Foundation in these unread messages. Yet Christopher was too busy perfecting his putt...and she’d covered for him.

      Feeling like a fool, Kinsley gritted her teeth as she typed in the URL to bring up the login page so she could sign into the account.

      As a Fortune, Christopher was set for life. Unlike the other family members who worked at the Foundation, he didn’t seem grounded in the realities of what mere mortals had to face in the world.

      No, Christopher Fortune was fat, spoiled and smug—

      Well, maybe not fat. Kinsley hated herself for it, but somehow her gaze always managed to find its way to Christopher’s abs. The way his expensive, tailored dress shirts tapered in at his trim waist, she could plainly see that the guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on his body.

      No, he was all broad shoulders and six-pack abs—or at least she imagined he was sporting a six-pack under his buttoned up exterior. Who wouldn’t be if they had time to work out daily? Actually, it didn’t matter what Christopher Fortune was packing under his crisp cotton shirt. Mr. Vice President was still spoiled and smug. And completely irresponsible when it came to doing his job.

      When the login page came up, she was relieved to see that it hadn’t been that long since Christopher had checked the account. In fact, it had only been two days. She scrolled through the ten emails in search of Judy Davis’s three messages. When she found them, she realized the three emails had arrived within a span of 36 hours.

      Mr. Jamison had been under the impression that she’d been waiting a long time to hear back. Though it really hadn’t been an excessively long time since Christopher had checked the account, it did need to be monitored regularly. Several times a day, in fact, to keep something like this from happening.

      If that was too much for Christopher to handle, he needed to hand it over to someone who could keep a closer eye on it, Kinsley thought as she started to click on one of the unopened message.

      But then she stopped. Instead, she had a better idea.

      She took a screenshot of the emails that still needed attention and printed it out. Then she took a fluorescent yellow highlighter and marked each one that he needed to check.

      She’d already covered for him.