An Officer and a Fortune

By Nina Crespo

His homecoming was temporary. Until he met the woman who changed everything.

Captain Collin Waldon is on leave from the military, tending to his ailing father in his final days. Knowing his stay in Rambling Rose will be short, Collin is not looking for romantic entanglements—especially not with Nicole Fortune, the beautiful, free-spirited executive chef of Roja Restaurant in the struggling Hotel Fortune. Yet these two unlikely lovers seem perfect for each other, until Collin’s reassignment threatens their newfound bliss…

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

The Fortunes of Texas: The Hotel Fortune

Book 1: Her Texas New Year’s Wish by Michelle Major

Book 2: Their Second-Time Valentine by Helen Lacey

Book 3: An Unexpected Father by Marie Ferrarella

Book 4: Runaway Groom by Lynne Marshall

Book 5: An Officer and a Fortune by Nina Crespo

Book 6: Cowboy in Disguise by Allison Leigh

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harlequin
• Release date: Apr 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781488075551

Nina Crespo

Nina Crespo lives in Florida where she indulges in her favorite passions — the beach, a good glass of wine, date night with her own real-life hero and dancing. Her lifelong addiction to romance began in her teens while on a “borrowing spree” in her older sister’s bedroom where she discovered her first romance novel. Let Nina’s sensual, award-winning stories satisfy your craving for love, romance, and happily ever after. Visit her at ninacrespo.com.

Book preview

Chapter One

Nicole Fortune strolled through the food section of the outdoor flea market or, as the locals called it, Mariana’s Market, located in a rural area just outside the town of Rambling Rose.

The items her fellow shoppers chose from tables shaded by green canopies illuminated who they were as clearly as the sun lit up the Texas morning sky.

Adventure seekers lived for the challenge of trying something new. Easygoing types tended to love all things sweet. But those tiny tells were just the basics.

The young brunette soothing the baby securely tucked in a gray striped wrap while carefully examining the organic peaches—most likely, she was making baby food. The silver-haired older couple smiling at each other as they sampled raspberries handed to them by the vendor—they would probably enjoy them over breakfast along with the eggs they’d purchased. And the redhead wearing blue workout clothes—she had the willpower of a saint to ignore the alluring scents of cinnamon bread and apple pastries flavoring the breeze. Veggies were undoubtedly high on her list.

A couple of yards away, the redhead picked out a head of romaine from one of the stalls. After paying for the lettuce and slipping it into a cloth bag, she went across the graveled aisle and bought cucumbers and a pint of grape tomatoes.

I knew it. As Nicole purchased a loaf of cinnamon bread, a light wind blew her blond hair back over the shoulders of her white fitted tee. She tucked a stray strand behind her ear, unable to hold back a small smile at being right about her prediction.

If someone had asked her about her own story of food, it was a simple one. As the executive chef of Roja, she lived to create dishes with flavors that raised anticipation for the next bite.

Her phone buzzed with an alarm in the side pocket of her black cargo pants. A reminder that as much as she loved her Saturday visits to Mariana’s, she had to get back to her restaurant.

Switching her netted market bag filled with lemons to her other hand, she took out her phone and turned off the alarm. She still needed rosemary for the chicken recipe she wanted to test out as a special for the upcoming summer menu. The first day of the warmest season of the year was only seven weeks away, and she was way behind in selecting entrées. Last time she’d visited the marketplace, she’d found a nice selection of herbs midway down the aisle.

Excuse me. A man walked past her from behind, gravel crunching under his beige Lugz boots.

As she scooted over, his arm bumped Nicole’s, raising tingles on hers. The appealing woodsy scent trailing after him woke up her senses like the first whiff of coffee rising in the steam from her favorite mug.

Perfect-fitting jeans encased his long legs. A deep tan pullover shirt stretched along his back. His unhurried pace emanated purpose and confidence as his wide shoulders made room for him in the crowd.

Where had he been hiding? She hadn’t seen him around town before. But then again...he looked familiar.

As she walked forward, he veered right to a table with red apples, giving her a partial glimpse of him from a distance. His dark hair cut in a high-and-tight fade emphasized what looked to be an interesting light brown face. His muscular-looking chest and biceps naturally flexed under his shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

He moved to the next stall, and Nicole took his spot in front of the apples. His wonderful scent lingered. Disappointment hit as soon as the breeze took it away.

Farther down, he paused at a stall laden with squash. Skipping over the more familiar varieties of long yellow necks and zucchini in front of him, he selected a round green tatume variety.

That was an interesting choice. How was he preparing it—grilled, sautéed, baked? Was he a fellow chef or a foodie?

Is he single?

Ashley’s and Megan’s voices echoed in her thoughts. Had her sisters been there, they would have encouraged her to go after him and find out.

Hey, Nicole, Louella O’Brien called out to her.

Nicole dragged her attention away from the guy and looked back over her shoulder.

Thin but sturdy-looking in jeans, a green plaid button-down and a red apron, the eightysomething woman with pulled back, dark gray-and-silver hair, waved her over to her stall.

Nicole slipped her phone back into her pocket and walked back to greet Louella.

Lou’s Luscious Jams was one of her and her sisters’ favorite vendors. Hi, Lou. How are you?

I’m good. Lou smiled and fine lines creased her tanned face, friendliness reflected in her clear green eyes.

How’s business?

Booming. Lou pointed to her half-empty table. I’ve only been here a few hours, and this is all I have left. Now that we have a revamped farmers market section, lots of new people are stopping in.

That’s wonderful.

The area with matching canopies lined up on either side of the gravel aisle really did bring more attention to the produce, baked goods and other tempting food items offered by the vendors. It was also close to Mariana’s food truck, the central point of the market, placing it directly in the flow of foot traffic. And the changes also showcased the spirit of togetherness bringing the ranchers, farmers and other longtime residents there to sell their goods.

That sense of small-town closeness was one of the things that had prompted Nicole to relocate from Florida to Rambling Rose.

Lou held out an eight-ounce quilt-patterned jar of red jam to Nicole. I thought you might be interested in having some of your favorite before I sold out. Made it fresh this week.

Roasted strawberry. Nicole’s mouth watered as she imagined the jam slathered on warm buttered toast and spooned over vanilla ice cream. Thank you.

Need a bag?

I’ve got one. Nicole reached inside her net bag, pulled out a folded cloth tote and put the jar inside it. I’ll take two more if you have them. I had to pry the last jar out of my sisters’ hands just to get some.

She’d stored the jam in the back of the pantry, but as usual, her sisters had sniffed it out. But that wasn’t surprising. As triplets, they’d never been able to keep anything from each other for very long.

Chuckling, Lou handed her two more. Here you go. But I suspect your sisters eating the last of this won’t be a problem for you anymore. You’re living on your own now, aren’t you?

As Nicole paid Lou for the jam, images flickered through her mind. A week ago, Ashley had gotten married to Rodrigo Mendoza. Their ceremony at the Texas Mission—a beautiful, historic adobe structure near town with terra-cotta floors, timber arches and a ceiling inlaid with colorful Mexican tiles—had been lovely and sweet. And the day had become even more romantic when Rodrigo’s brother Mark had proposed to Megan. Now that they were engaged, Megan was spending most of her free time with him instead of the suite of rooms she and her sisters had once shared at their family’s Fame and Fortune Ranch.

Lou was right. Ashley had her own home now with Rodrigo. Megan spent most of her time with Mark in Austin. She didn’t have to worry about having enough jam anymore.

Happiness for her sisters along with a teensy bit of loneliness and envy rose inside Nicole. Yes, I’m on my own now.

As Lou slipped the money into the pocket of her apron, she gave Nicole an all-knowing look. Well, you know what they say. Good things come in threes. I’m sure you’ll be following in their footsteps soon enough.

Chapter Two

Good things come in threes...

The words echoed in her mind as Nicole accepted a sample jar of a new jam flavor, triple-berry jalapeño, from Lou and walked away from the stall.

Over the past twenty-four years, Nicole, her sisters and their parents had encountered that saying a lot.

And it was true that many of her, Megan’s and Ashley’s experiences had lined up in threes. From learning to crawl at the same time as babies to triple dating as teens to venturing into the hospitality industry. But as far as her finding Mr. Right, as her sisters had done...well, that would have to come later.

Since she’d moved from being a sous chef at Provisions, the restaurant she and her sisters opened in town last year, and stepped into the position of executive chef at Roja a few months ago, she’d barely had time to keep up with doing her laundry, let alone date. Attracting loyal clientele, building a solid staff and maintaining quality service required her full attention. Along with designing menus that enticed guests at the hotel and the residents of Rambling Rose to visit the restaurant.

The summer menu was high on her to-do list but making it a reality was a challenge. Her creative muse had unexpectedly taken a long vacation and didn’t appear to have plans on returning anytime soon. Lately, just thinking about the menu or trying to research new recipes left her feeling overwhelmed instead of motivated.

One of the reasons she’d come to the market was to find inspiration in the outdoor, farm-to-table atmosphere. There was something special about farmers or home-based fruit and vegetable gardeners who had the knowledge and patience to grow food.

She recalled the guy who’d run into her earlier. Seeing him handle the squash had been inspirational, too, in its own unique way. She couldn’t stop a smile as the clear image of him came back into her mind. But now wasn’t the time to daydream about him. She needed to concentrate on finding the rosemary.

Weaving through the growing crowd, she glanced left and right. Just as she was about to give up her search, she spotted the herbs and a host of leafy green vegetables. Harris Farms...that was the vendor she was looking for.

But the baskets were almost empty.

Picking up the pace, Nicole moved to the side, squeezing between the people strolling down the center aisle and the ones perusing items at the stalls.

Almost there...

A few steps from the table, a dark-haired woman cut in front of Nicole and set down the numerous full bags she’d been carrying at her feet. Leaning over the table, she blocked the rosemary basket as she flagged down the vendor. Do you have more basil? What’s out here is wilted.

Pardon me. Nicole tried to snag some of the rosemary, but the woman calling out to the vendor wouldn’t budge.

Releasing a sigh of frustration, Nicole scooted around her, battling the crowd like a salmon swimming upstream. By the time she made it to the other side of the woman, only one bunch of rosemary tied with a thin red band remained.

As she reached for it, a familiar woodsy cologne and alluring body heat surrounded her like an embrace. Distracted from the basket, she glanced left at the guy standing there. It was him.

Stunning coppery eyes met hers, and her thoughts short-circuited, leaving her mouth momentarily uncensored. You are so... She barely swallowed the rest of her sentence, preventing it from slipping out. Gorgeous.

I’m what? He picked up the last of the rosemary. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly as his mouth quirked up with a quizzical smile.

Nicole pointed to the tied bunch of herbs in his hand. You are so lucky. That’s the last one.

It is? I guess I am. The deep tone of his voice settled inside of Nicole, making her tingle from the inside out. As he held her gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

Stop staring! What was wrong with her? She was acting like he was the first sinfully hot guy she’d ever laid eyes on.

His gaze moved from her face to her free hand, still hovering in the air.

She snatched up some parsley.

Okay, it wasn’t what she came for, but she’d looked silly just standing there practically drooling over him. It wasn’t like she didn’t need it. Parsley was in the lemon rosemary chicken recipe and a dozen other dishes at Roja. They could always use more.

The sixtyish brown-skinned man behind the table, dressed casually and wearing a tan cowboy hat, came over and smiled broadly at the gorgeous guy. Collin, good to see you again.

Collin... Now she remembered. He’d attended an event at the Hotel Fortune a few months ago. She hadn’t gotten a chance to meet him, but Grace Williams, the hotel’s general manager, had been talking to him at the get-together. After he’d left, she’d overheard Grace mention his name and that he was a friend.

It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Harris. He shook the older man’s hand.

Not wanting to seem as if she was eavesdropping on their conversation, Nicole busied herself sorting out dollars for her purchase.

Thanks again for reminding me about this place yesterday, Collin said. You saved me a trip to Ellington Field.

There’s no need to make the drive all the way out there, Mr. Harris replied. You can find most of what you need here.

Ellington Field... That was the joint military reserve base near Houston. Was he stationed there? With his haircut, and the way he carried himself, she could easily imagine him wearing a uniform.

Mr. Harris accepted Collin’s money. How’s Sam?

He’s...

Collin’s pause as he slipped the rosemary into his bag made Nicole glance at him.

He’s doing okay. His smile dimmed, and for a brief moment sadness was in his face.

A sudden wish that it wouldn’t be strange for her to lay her hand on Collin’s arm in a gesture of comfort hit Nicole square in the chest.

Be sure to let him know I’m thinking about him. Empathy reflected in Mr. Harris’s expression.

I will. Collin gave a nod and left.

After paying for the parsley, her path continued to mirror Collin’s as she made her way through the crowd.

As more people swarmed into the market, a bottleneck landed her at his side.

Her bag with the jars bumped his leg. Sorry.

No problem. We seem to keep running into each other. The smile he’d lost at Mr. Harris’s stall returned, full force, making her smile back.

We do. Nicole slipped the strap of the bag over her shoulder. Maybe it was a sign that she should introduce herself? She could mention that she recognized him from the event at the hotel. Or she could ask him what he was making with the items he’d bought.

Spotting an opening in the crowd, they slipped through it at the same time.

As they exited the market and headed to the parking lot, he chuckled. Looks like the entire population of Rambling Rose just showed up.

I know, right? So...what’s on your menu?

His brow rose. My menu?

From the hint of amusement in his face, her question had sounded like a really bad pickup line. What I meant is, what’s cooking in your kitchen. That didn’t sound any better. The heat of embarrassment crept into her face. You bought a squash. Or some people call it a tatume. It just depends, really... And she really needed to stop talking.

"I’m making calabaza con pollo. He pronounced the Spanish vowels perfectly. Have you ever had it?"

If she hadn’t had the dish he’d mentioned, or recognized the other name for the squash, the way he’d said it would have made her want to sample the dish right away.

Relief that they were finally speaking the same food language made her smile up at him as they slowed down at the edge of the parking lot. It’s one of the specials at my restaurant.

Which one?

Roja. I’m the executive chef.

That’s in the hotel the Fortunes built, isn’t it?

Yes. Should she tell him she was a Fortune? But how many times had that revelation caused a friendly conversation to go sideways?

Her brother Callum, a real estate developer and contractor, had invested in revitalizing Rambling Rose almost two years ago. The town had been in decline with a dwindling population and even fewer employment opportunities. She, Ashley and Megan, along with their other four siblings, had joined him in the venture. So far, it had been successful.

Recent retirees from outside the area were moving in. Millennials were returning because of jobs and more social activities. The Gen Z demographic now saw Rambling Rose as a place they wanted to live instead of one they wanted to move away from. The rebuild had also attracted millionaires seeking a quiet refuge, just off the beaten path. Because of the new residents, Rambling Rose was experiencing a housing boom, with subdivisions being built in the area.

Some of the locals appreciated the improvements that included Roja and the Hotel Fortune, while others saw the changes as an intrusion and viewed her and her family as interlopers.

She could never deny who she was. If Collin felt that way about her family, it was best to find out now before she kept talking to him.

Nicole stretched out her hand. I’m Nicole Fortune, by the way.

Collin Waldon.

His hand enclosed hers, not too tight but firm, feeding a heady buzz of happiness in not seeing disapproval in his eyes.

A truck and an SUV drove past.

Careful. He quickly released her hand and took hold of her arm, urging her to move farther away from cars cruising through the parking lot.

She gravitated in his direction, feeling safer just being near him.

He released her but remained close enough for her to map out the soft flecks of gold and amber in his eyes. So it’s your turn to confess.

She’d tell him anything he asked. About what?

What are you making with the parsley and lemons in your bag?

I’m testing a recipe I found for lemon rosemary chicken.

Are you preparing it with fresh pasta?

That’s the only way to make it. Excitement over the recipe and the intensity in his gaze, as if every word she said mattered to him, fueled a ramble. But I can’t decide which pasta to make. Angel hair, spaghetti, fettuccini or rigatoni. Or maybe a veggie-based pasta for a little more flavor.

Whichever one you decide on, you’ll need this. He took the rosemary from his bag and held it out to her.

Nicole reached for it but caught herself. I couldn’t. She released a quiet laugh and smoothed hair from her forehead. You need it for something you’re making.

But you need it more. Fresh rosemary is a must for lemon rosemary chicken. Its pungent, lemony undertones accent the dish perfectly. You know I’m right.

From the flavor profile Collin had just described, he really did understand. As Nicole accepted the bundled herb, her fingers grazed his. Tingles along with a secret wish to see Collin again and make something wonderful and delicious with the rosemary for him to taste, came over her.

I’m taking it on one condition. She slipped a business card from the back of her phone case and held it out to him. You have to come to Roja for lunch on Monday and taste it. I’d love to get your opinion.

Collin’s expression sobered as he offered up a shadow of a smile. My schedule is full next week. I can’t promise I’ll be there.

As Nicole stared up at him, hopefulness remained in not seeing an outright no in his eyes. Just try.

Chapter Three

Collin scooped up fresh kernels of corn from