His Shy Cinderella

So how was he going to ask her out?

Sending her a bouquet of red roses would be way too obvious. Too flashy. Too corny. Besides, did she even like flowers? Some women hated cut flowers, preferring to see them grow rather than withering in a vase. None of that information was in his dossier.

He could ring her PA and talk her into setting up a meeting, though he was pretty sure that Angel had given her strict instructions to do nothing of the kind.

Or he could try a slightly riskier option. He was pretty sure that Angel McKenzie spent all her energies on her business; so there was a very good chance that she’d work through her lunch break and eat a sandwich at her desk.

If he supplied the sandwich, she couldn’t really refuse a lunch meeting with him on Monday, could she?

The more he thought about it all day, the more he liked the idea.

Gina’s dossier didn’t tell him whether Angel was vegetarian, hated fish or had any kind of food allergies. So at the supermarket on Monday morning he erred on the side of caution and bought good bread, good cheese, heritage tomatoes, a couple of deli salads and olives.

Though he had to be realistic: Angel could still say no and close the door in his face, so he needed a plan B to make sure she said yes. And there was one obvious thing. Something that, in her shoes, he wouldn’t be able to resist.

He flicked the switch to trigger his car’s voice-control audio system, connected it to his phone and called Gina as he drove home. ‘I’m not going to be in the office today,’ he said, ‘and I won’t be able to answer my phone, so can you text me if there’s anything I need to deal with?’

‘You’re taking a day’s holiday?’ She sounded surprised: fair enough. He didn’t take many days off, and he normally gave her a reasonable amount of notice.

‘This is work,’ he said. Of sorts.

‘And it involves a girl,’ Gina said dryly.

Yes, but not quite how she thought. And he could do without the lecture. ‘I’ll check in with you later,’ he said.

Back at his house, he collected a couple of sharp knives, cutlery, glasses and plates from the kitchen, dug out a bottle of sparkling water, put the lot into a picnic basket and then headed out to his garage. He backed one of his cars into the driveway and took a photograph of it, then put the picnic basket in the back. If Angel refused to have lunch with him or even talk to him, he was pretty sure that the photograph would change her mind.

* * *

Angel’s PA gave Brandon a rueful smile. ‘I’m afraid you don’t have an appointment, Mr Stone, and Ms McKenzie’s diary is fully booked.’

Brandon glanced at the nameplate on her desk. ‘If I didn’t already have a fabulous PA who also happens to be my mother’s best friend,’ he said, ‘I’d definitely think about poaching you, Stephanie, because I really admire your loyalty to Ms McKenzie.’

Stephanie went pink. ‘Oh.’

‘And, because I think you keep an eye on her,’ he said, ‘I’m pretty sure you’re the one who actually makes her take a break at lunchtime, even if it’s just five minutes for a sandwich at her desk.’

‘Well—yes,’ Stephanie admitted.

‘So today I brought the sandwich instead of you having to do it,’ he said, gesturing to the picnic basket he was carrying.

‘I really can’t—’ she began.

‘Stephie, is there a prob—?’ Angel asked, walking out of her office. Then she stopped as she saw Brandon. ‘Oh. You.’

‘Yes. Me,’ he agreed with a broad smile.

‘What do you want?’

‘I brought us some lunch.’ He focused on charming her PA. ‘Stephanie, if you’d like to join us, you’re very welcome.’

‘I, um...’ Stephanie went even pinker.

‘Don’t try to use my PA as a pawn,’ Angel said grimly. ‘And I don’t have time for lunch.’

‘The same as your diary’s allegedly fully booked, but there’s nobody actually sitting in your office right now having a meeting with you?’

She frowned. ‘You really are persistent, aren’t you?’

‘We’ve already discussed that. Persistence is a business asset.’

‘Wasn’t it Einstein who said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?’ she asked coolly.

‘That’s been attributed to quite a few other people, from ancient Chinese proverbs to Rita Mae Brown,’ he said, enjoying himself. Sparring with someone with a mind like Angel McKenzie’s was fun. ‘Actually, I’m not doing the same thing over and over again. This is lunch, not breakfast.’

* * *

If Brandon had driven to Cambridgeshire from his family’s factory near Oxford, that would’ve taken him at least a couple of hours if the traffic was good, Angel thought. He’d made an effort. Maybe she should make a little effort back. If she talked to him, maybe she might get him to understand that she was serious about not selling her company. ‘Do you want some coffee?’

‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’

And his smile wasn’t in the least bit smug or triumphant. It was just...nice. And it made her spine tingle.

‘I’ll make it, if you like.’

Had her hearing system just gone wrong? The man was used to women hanging on his every word. He hadn’t even been invited here and yet he’d walked in. And now... She blinked. ‘You’re offering to make coffee?’

‘Is there something wrong with the idea of a man making coffee?’

Ouch. She’d just been sexist and he’d called her on it. Fairly. ‘I guess not.’

‘Don’t make assumptions,’ he said softly. ‘Especially if you’re basing them on what the press says about me.’

Was he telling her that he wasn’t the playboy the press suggested he was? Or was he playing games? Brandon Stone flustered her. Big time. And she couldn’t quite work out why. Was it just because he was so good-looking? Or did she see a tiny hint of vulnerability in his grey eyes, showing that there was more to him than just the cocky, confident racing champion? Or was that all just wishful thinking and he really was a shallow playboy?

What she did know was that he was her business rival. One who wanted to buy her out. She probably shouldn’t even be talking to him.

On the other hand, if Triffid didn’t get that contract to her and the bank carried out its threat of calling in her overdraft, she might be forced to eat humble pie and sell McKenzie’s to him, no matter how much she’d hate it. Short of winning the lottery, right now she was all out of ideas.

‘So where’s the coffee machine?’ he asked.

‘The staff kitchen’s next down the corridor on the left as you go out of the door,’ Stephanie said. ‘The mugs are in the cupboard and so are the coffee pods.’

‘Thank you.’ He smiled at her, and turned to Angel. ‘Cappuccino, no sugar, right?’

She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

‘How do you like your coffee, Stephanie?’ he asked.

His courtesy made Angel feel a little bit better about Plan C. If he treated junior staff well rather than ignoring them or being dismissive, that was a good sign for the future if he did end up taking over McKenzie’s. Maybe he wasn’t as ruthless as she feared, despite his family background. Or maybe he just wanted her to think that.

‘I’m not drinking coffee at the moment,’ Stephanie said, and rested her hand briefly on her stomach.

Angel could see from the change in Brandon’s expression that he’d noticed the tiny gesture, too, and realised what it meant. Stephanie was pregnant. Was it her imagination, or did she see pain and regret flicker briefly over his expression? But why would a pregnancy make him react like that?

None of her business, she reminded herself.

‘What can I get you, Stephanie?’ Brandon asked.

‘Fruit tea, please. There’s some strawberry tea in the cupboard.’

He smiled. ‘Got you. Is it OK to leave my basket here on your desk for a second?’

‘Sure,’ she said.

As he walked out, Stephanie mouthed to Angel, ‘He’s nice.’

Yeah. That was the problem. He wasn’t just an arrogant playboy. There was another side to Brandon Stone—a side she could let herself like very, very much. Which made him dangerous to her peace of mind.

* * *

Brandon returned to Angel’s office, carrying three mugs. He put Stephanie’s strawberry tea on her desk, then picked up the picnic basket. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to join us, Stephanie?’

She went very pink again. ‘No, but thank you for asking.’

‘Is it OK to put the coffee on your desk?’ he asked when he followed Angel through to her office.

‘Sure.’ She looked surprised that he’d asked. Did she have a downer on all men? That would explain why Gina hadn’t been able to find any information about Angel dating anyone. But she was reportedly close to her father, so maybe it wasn’t all men. Maybe someone had hurt her badly and she hadn’t trusted anyone since.

And how weird was it that the thought made him want to bunch his fists and dispense a little rough justice to the guy who’d hurt her? Angel McKenzie seemed quite capable of looking after herself. She didn’t need a tame thug. Besides, Brandon didn’t settle arguments with fists: there were much better ways to sort out problems.

Angel made him feel slightly off balance, and he couldn’t work out why.

He scanned the room. Her office was super-neat and tidy. There were photographs on the walls; some were of cars he recognised as being iconic McKenzie designs, but there was also a picture on her desk of a couple who were clearly her parents, and one more on the wall of someone he didn’t recognise but he guessed had something to do with the business—maybe her grandfather?

He unpacked the picnic basket, put the bread on a plate and cut a few slices, then handed her a plate and his other sharp knife. ‘Help yourself to cheese.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It’s not much of a choice, but I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian,’ he said.

‘No, though I do try to do meat-free Mondays.’ She paused. ‘It’s nice of you to have brought lunch.’

There was definitely a hint of suspicion in those beautiful violet eyes. She was clearly wondering what he wanted, because there was no such thing as a free lunch.

He wasn’t quite sure he could answer her unasked question. He wanted McKenzie’s. That was the main reason he was here. But he also wanted her, and that threw him. ‘Think of it as a sandwich at your desk,’ he said.

She took a nibble of the cheese and then the bread. ‘A very nice sandwich, too.’

‘So who are the people in the photographs?’ he asked.

‘The one on the wall over there is my grandfather Jimmy, back in the early days of McKenzie’s.’ She gestured to her desk. ‘My mum and dad, Sadie and Max.’

Just as he’d guessed; but there were no pictures of Esther, who’d been at the centre of the rift between Barnaby Stone and Jimmy McKenzie. He wondered if Angel looked anything like her. Not that he was going to ask. He kept the conversation light and anodyne, then cleared away when they’d both finished.

‘So,’ he said. ‘We managed to have a civilised meal together.’

‘I guess.’

‘We’ve done breakfast and lunch.’ But the next words out of his mouth weren’t quite the ones he’d intended to say. ‘Would you like to come to a gala dinner with me?’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.