Swept Into The Tycoon's World. Cara ColterЧитать онлайн книгу.
disapproval as he registered that morsel of information about the sad state of Bree’s dating life.
“Your young assistant looks more than capable of finishing the setup here.” His voice was suave.
Chelsea preened. “More than capable,” she said, and flipped her hair.
It would seem churlish to refuse. It would seem like she was afraid of him, and life and surprises and the very thing she tried to bake into all her cookies.
Magic.
It was that magical thinking that always got her in trouble, Bree reminded herself. He had mentioned business. She was not in a position to turn down this kind of connection to the business world.
“All right,” she said, resigned. “A quick coffee.”
Bree came face-to-face with her truth. She was terrified of believing in good things.
And terrified especially to believe in the happily-ever-after that men like him had made women like her yearn for since the beginning of time.
“For goodness sake,” Chelsea said in an undertone, “lose the apron. And do something with your hair.”
She ran a hand through it, and followed Brand, tilting her chin at him when he held the door open for her.
It was a beautiful spring evening in Vancouver, and Bree was aware her senses felt oddly heightened. The air smelled good from a recent rain, and plump crystal droplets fell from the blossom-laden branches of the ornamental cherry trees that lined the sidewalk.
There were two coffee places around the corner from the concert hall, and Bree liked it that Brand chose the independent shop, Perks, rather than the one that was part of a big chain.
It was cozy inside, with mismatched sofas and scarred old tables with brightly painted chairs clustered around them. It smelled heavenly, of coffee and exotic spices.
“Have you been here before?” he asked her.
“Just to introduce them to Kookies. They passed.”
“Fools.”
Brand said it with such genuine indignation. It was going to be hard to keep her defenses about her. But she had known that when she was trying to refuse his invitation.
“Thank you for saying so. But it wasn’t personal. They already had a contract with someone.”
“Humph.”
She had managed to get rid of her apron, but remembered Chelsea’s instruction to do something with her hair. “If you’ll excuse me for just a sec, I’ll go freshen up.”
“What can I get you?”
She was going to say hot chocolate; coffee was out at this time of evening. But in the spirit of living dangerously and allowing life to astonish her, she didn’t. “Surprise me,” she said.
“Oh. That sounds fun.”
Somehow, she was not at all sure he was talking about beverage selection! She excused herself hastily before he could see the blush moving up her neck.
She found the washroom, slipped inside and looked at herself in the mirror. What she saw was so ordinary as to be discouraging. Her light brown hair, average at the best of times, was pulled into a tight bun—even worse. She had gone very light on the makeup, so faint freckles stood out on her nose. She had on no lipstick, and she had worn glasses tonight instead of her contacts. A wholesome, old-fashioned look was exactly what she wanted when she was behind the table giving out cookie samples.
To have coffee with an old crush—who could coax a blush out of her with a turn of phrase—not so much!
She pulled her hair out of the bun. It fell, stick-straight, to her shoulders. She rummaged in her purse for a brush and added a touch of lip gloss.
It was an improvement, but she was aware she still felt very ordinary, the kind of workaday girl who was virtually invisible.
“Not in his league,” she told herself. But then she saw the plus side of that: she could just relax. It was just old friends catching up, after all. Nothing would ever come of it, except maybe a beneficial business connection.
She went back out into the main room. He had chosen two love seats facing each other with a round coffee table in between. She walked over and sat opposite him.
“You’ve let your hair down,” Brand said.
Physically, not figuratively, despite her intention to relax. She hoped he didn’t think she had done it to impress him.
“More comfortable,” she said.
“I always liked the color of your hair. It reminds me of sand on a sun-warmed beach.”
He had remembered the color of her hair? She gawked at him. Sand on a sun-warmed beach?
Do not gawk at the celebrities, she ordered herself. And do not take it personally, she also ordered herself. It was obvious he knew his way around women. He had found her one redeeming feature and flattered her about it. And it had worked some terrible magic on her. She could feel her nerves humming so hard it felt as though her skin was vibrating.
“I always considered it mousy brown,” she said.
“That is ridiculous.”
If she wasn’t careful, she was going to gawk again. Probably with her mouth hanging open.
Thankfully, the beverages were delivered. Two steaming cups were set in front of them. She took hers, blew on it gently so as not to blow a blob of foam right onto his forehead and took a sip.
“What is this?” she asked, delighted.
“So I did manage to surprise! You’ve never had it before?”
“No.”
“It’s a chai latte. Spiced sweet tea with steamed milk. You like?”
“Wonderful. I can taste the tea, which is so ordinary, but then the spices and the mound of sugar-crusted foam raise it to a new level.”
Suddenly she wondered why he had picked it for her. And she found herself looking at ordinary in a different light.
“And what are you having?” she asked him.
“Coffee, black.”
“Given the variety on the menu, that seems unadventurous.”
“I save my adventuring for other arenas.”
She was going to blush again! No, she was not. She would not give him the satisfaction.
“You have had some great adventures in business,” she said, pleased that she did not miss a beat. “I’ve been reading about you, Brand,” she said. “You’ve done so well.”
“Ah, the City article. I had no idea that magazine was so widely read.”
Bree doubted it had been before they featured him on the cover!
“I must say I didn’t treasure anonymity nearly enough when I had it. Everyone suddenly knows who I am. It’s a little disconcerting. But thank you. The success part seems to be luck and timing. I jumped on an opportunity.”
“My dad loved the quote—‘opportunity meets preparation.’ He always thought very highly of you. He admired your work ethic. He was fond of saying, ‘That young man is going places.’”
“He used to say the same thing to me. When not another person in the world was. I feel as if he was the first person who truly believed in me. That goes a long way in a young man’s life, especially one with no father figure. I don’t think I ever had a chance to tell him that. What his faith in me meant. I regret it, but I’m glad I’ve been given this opportunity to tell you.”
It became evident to her this was why he’d invited her for coffee. It was