Sloane shifted uncomfortably. First she’d caught his wandering eyes, and now he was alluding to problems she didn’t want to hear about. Time for a subject change.
“Why don’t you let me make you some brunch?”
She shook her head. “No, that’s really not necessary. I’m sure you have as much to do as I do.”
“C’mon. We can talk about your presentation to corporate. That’s coming up quick, isn’t it?”
Her posture softened. A drop of panic bloomed behind her pupils before it disappeared again. “Okay.”
She explained her plan as he lined a muffin tin with flattened slices of bread and whisked together an egg mixture to fill them. By the time his toasts were out of the oven and plated, he was practically floored by her preparedness. She seemed to know more about the inner workings of his restaurant, its niche demographics and return on investment figures than he did.
“Any tips on winning your dad’s approval?” She pressed the pad of her finger to the buttery bread crumbs on her empty plate, searching his eyes with an almost childlike glimmer of hope.
Cooper turned toward the window and squinted against the slicing sunlight. “You’re asking me?” He forced his tone to be light, unable to crush her optimism with the cruel reality she’d see in his face. But it was true. After thirty-one years, he hadn’t exactly cornered the market on pleasing his father.
He’d sat in on countless meetings in which even seasoned executives stumbled over their words, intimidated by his father’s innate and often frigid defense of the family, the company and their assets. That facade tended to thaw once someone proved their worth. If he got a hold of Sloane and decided she couldn’t be trusted according to his arbitrary standards, she’d be out the door in less time than it took to crack an egg. With her impressive show of knowledge still fresh on his mind, Cooper couldn’t lose her now.
But as he improvised advice that might help Sloane stay off of his father’s radar and watched her fingertips push the last remnant of the meal he’d made between her lips, Cooper made a promise to them both.
After she left, he picked up his phone and made a call.
As much as Sloane had already done for him, there was no way on earth he was going to let her experience his father’s bad side.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“YOU’VE GOT THIS. This isn’t even close to the hardest thing you’ve had to do.”
Sloane paced the immaculate Persian rug in her apartment building’s entryway, repeating every affirmation she could think of and practicing breathing techniques.
Any minute now, her car service would arrive to take her to Cooper’s restaurant to talk about her promotional strategies in front of who knows how many people.
She’d lobbied for an online presentation, using every excuse in the book. But the Coopers weren’t dissuaded. The very last second to change her mind came with the appearance of a shiny black sedan. It was now or never.
“Do you think you could play something classical?” Sloane asked the driver the second the door was open. She placed a box in the seat and hauled her heavier-than-usual bag to the floorboard. “Oh, sorry. Hello.” Thank goodness it was Mr. Harrison, who knew her idiosyncrasies as he’d taxied her several times before.
The older man’s eyes squinted as he smiled. “Sure thing, Miss Bradley.”
She sank into the seat and willed the muscles in her face to relax, ignoring the hair she felt escaping from the low bun she’d spent thirty minutes getting just right. Trying to pay no mind to the fresh wrinkles forming under her sweater vest. She allowed the woodwinds of a Debussy intro to wash over her, resisting the urge to rehearse her talking points again. The basil-and-berry scones she’d baked for the meeting had gotten to hear all about those talking points as she measured and mixed them into fluffy, golden-brown existence.
Sloane had arranged her pickup early enough that the streets of downtown Dallas were eerily clear. Or at least not slammed with the bumper-to-bumper traffic the city was known for.
“Big day today?”
She met her driver’s dark brown gaze in the rearview mirror. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll do great. I know it.”
Since Simone wasn’t officially open yet, Cooper had asked to meet there. So at least she didn’t have to worry about navigating an unfamiliar high-rise. Mr. Harrison barely had the chance to pull up to the front of the building before Sloane opened her car door. She gathered the decorated box of scones then smoothed down her pencil skirt with her free hand before grabbing her bag.
“Thanks, Mr. Harrison,” she said, closing the door with a bump of her hip. “I’ll try to save you a scone.”
She stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. If her history with this entryway repeated itself right now, she’d just call it a day. Maybe it was time for a new job anyway.
But before she could reach for the handle, the door opened—with plenty of space—revealing Cooper’s easy grin on the other side.
“Morning, Sloane.” He took the box from her and touched a hand to her back as she crossed the threshold of the restaurant. Yeah, I remember what happened before, his sly smile said.
While Sloane had been bracing herself for a room full of men and women in suits—Cooper had said she’d be presenting to their executive staff—the restaurant was empty except for Marian.
Oh great. Had she misread the time in the email? Or did the rest of the staff not care about Cooper’s restaurant that much?
She swallowed hard. Suddenly a room of corporate drones sounded more appealing. The fact that Sloane was about to have Marian’s undivided attention intimidated her. Especially because the matronly figure who’d sat next to her at the soft opening had transformed to a crisp, no-nonsense chairperson of the board. She was surrounded by coffee. Two insulated cups with coffee collars. A gargantuan thermos. One of Cooper’s rustic, mismatched cup-and-saucer sets. She was plugged into her Bluetooth, having an animated conversation, typing on her cell phone with both thumbs.
“So what did you bring?” Cooper tugged at the twine on top of the box.
“Oh, it’s just a little...” Sloane clamped down on her trembling lip as he opened the lid. “When you said I’d be presenting to the executive staff, I thought it would be...”
“Everyone who matters? Right here.” He swept his finger in an arc from his chest to the table where his mom was sitting and took a big bite. His face lit up. “Oh, these are good, Sloane. What is that? Basil?”
She nodded. “I’ve done a berry-and-basil ice cream on the blog before, too.” Her teeth chattered, though the room was warm.
It’s just two of them, Sloane. You can do this. Only, one of them was the woman who had launched two powerful organizations, who possessed a force Sloane didn’t want to be on the bad end of.
And the other, well...
She stole a glance at his broad shoulders. A shudder rippled through her as he placed a scone on a napkin in front of his mother and gathered her empty coffee cups.
“Foundation stuff,” he said. “She’ll just be a few more minutes. Can I make you a fine espresso beverage in the meantime?”
“No. I’m okay.” Or at least Sloane would be when his mom got off the phone and she could put this presentation behind her.
Marian ended her call a few moments later, setting her phone on the table with a huge sigh. She picked up a scone almost as an afterthought and took a bite. With one swipe of a hand across her face, her smile was back. Her warmth. “These are delicious, Sloane,” she said. “Graham, you really need to see about putting these in your restaurant. They’d get gobbled up.”
“I’ll take it into consideration.” He raised his eyebrows at Sloane, who felt her lips twitch in triumph. “Now let’s get this thing started. Are you ready?”
Marian’s gaze darted to t
he window. “Where’s your father? Owen?”
Cooper’s smile faded. “Fifteen minutes late?” He shrugged.
No sputter. No roll of the eyes. Marian just nodded serenely. “They must have gotten caught up at the office, but I don’t have very much longer. Let’s get started without them.”
Sloane took a deep breath. “Okay—”
“Wait.” Marian stretched her arms above her head. “Would you mind terribly if we moved this meeting to the little green at the end of the street? Some vitamin D would feel good on these old bones.” The half smile that came with her question wasn’t high-maintenance or demanding. But meeting outside would throw off Sloane’s entire presentation without access to the slides she’d sacrificed her morning run to finish.
Cooper looked at her expectantly.
Like she would ever say no to Marian Cooper. “Uh, I think I could work with that.” Sloane raised her eyebrows to inject some optimism into her tone, the way her high-school drama teacher had taught her.
As they walked the short distance to the little park, she tried to rehearse her talking points. But her mind drew a big, fat blank.
By the time Cooper and Marian were seated on the gray stone bench squinting at her in the laser rays of morning sun, Sloane had lapsed into full-fledged panic. She was back in that high-school theater again, clamming up when she had to rehearse in front of a few people, yet totally fine playing Juliet with the entire school in the audience. “Let me just get my tablet.” She turned away from them and balanced her bag on the ledge of the chiseled stone water feature, sliding out her tablet.
Weird. It had somehow powered off since she left her apartment.
Sloane pressed the power button, and the battery icon blinked at her, mocking her with its directive. Plug into power source.
No. This couldn’t be happening. She’d triple-checked before she went to sleep last night that it was plugged in. It’d been in her bag since she unplugged it from the wall. Off to preserve every ounce of energy, she’d thought.
“Everything okay?” Cooper appeared at her side, his eyebrows knitted together.
Sloane brought a clammy hand to her forehead and mopped at the sheen of perspiration. “Not exactly.” She bit her lip and squeezed her free hand at her side. “My technology is failing me, and I don’t know what to do. I had an outline, a slideshow presentation, and now I have nothing to show you.”
“Okay. It’s no problem, Sloane.” He lowered his voice so his mom wouldn’t hear him.
“Is something wrong?” Marian asked.
“Not at all.” Cooper winked. “Can you sit tight here for a minute, Mom?”
The older woman shaded her eyes and smiled at them. “You bet. No worries. This sun feels amazing.”
The hair on Sloane’s arms prickled as Cooper gripped her forearm and nudged her toward the restaurant.
“Do you have your presentation saved somewhere? Email, maybe?”
“I emailed it to myself. Why?” Sloane had to practically jog to keep up with him.
He opened the restaurant door. “I was going to wait to show this to you until after the presentation, but I got you a little something.”
Wait a minute. He was choosing now of all times to give her something? With Marian waiting?
They crossed the kitchen to a door Sloane had always assumed led to the alley. But it was an office of sorts, with a desk, computer and chairs.
Cooper motioned to a square wooden table assembled in the corner opposite from the desk. “This is for you if you ever need a workspace. I had no idea it would come in handy this soon.”
He’d arranged a bouquet of colored pens in a chunky ceramic mug printed with the Simone logo. Paper clips, Post-it notes and bigger notepads were lined neatly in one corner, arranged by color. A flutter of picture-perfect giddiness set loose in Sloane’s stomach. Bottles of hand sanitizer and antibacterial wipes occupied the other corner.
“It’s not much, but—”
“It’s perfect.”
His lips twitched into a tiny smile. “You like it?”
“Oui, chef. Thanks.” Their eyes held for less than a second, charged with a rushing revelation for Sloane.
Cooper had been paying attention. And, despite all the weirdness, he got her.
She used his computer to print the presentation straight from her email. They were back in business.
Marian was typing on her phone when they returned, lips moving along with her thumbs.
Cooper gave Sloane’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze and motioned for her to sit next to Marian. Then he slid to her other side with a waft of freshly baked dough and espresso.
Somehow her presentation had turned into a discussion that was much less intimidating. Her preshow jitters had dissolved, thanks to Cooper. Sloane showed them her edited images and rough sketches of posts, answering their questions along the way. She gave them profiles of the online magazines and high-traffic websites where her articles and reviews were scheduled to appear and the rough projected statistics she could remember. They complemented her ideas with kind, helpful input she jotted into the margins.
And somehow Sloane formed coherent sentences despite her constant awareness of the arm crossed behind her back so they could all fit on the bench. The biceps brushed against her shoulder blade. The hand gripping the bench just inches away from her hip.
He’d turned this big, scary presentation into something personal. Something fun.
Something safe.
“It’s obvious you were the right person for the job.” Marian squeezed Sloane’s arm when it was over, her lined lips curved into a warm, genuine smile. “With those kinds of numbers, Simone might be on track for the biggest opening in company history.”
“Thank you, Marian.” Sloane returned Cooper’s sidelong grin. “I sure hope so.”
Marian pressed a button on her phone, frowning at the screen. “I hate to run, but I have an appointment I can’t be late for. Do you two have everything you need?”
Sloane looked at Cooper and shrugged.
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll keep you updated about the impression figures.”
Marian nodded, hugged Sloane and kissed her son on the cheek before striding in the direction of the restaurant.
“Is she always like that?” Sloane watched her disappear down the street.
“Like what?”
She smeared some lip balm onto her lips and spent extra time rubbing it in to find the right word. “Driven?”
Cooper’s smile faded. “She didn’t used to be, but she’s been through a lot. That’s just how she deals with things.”
Sloane’s throat dried at the thought of someone as nice as Marian going through a divorce and then watching her ex-husband rebound with women half his age. She couldn’t even imagine. “I’m glad your father wasn’t here—for her sake, I mean.”
“No, they’re good. They’re civil.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’ve gotten used to being in meetings together, I guess, and as long as it’s all business, they’re okay.” Cooper took a step toward the restaurant and waited for Sloane to follow. “She was really impressed with you—and she should be. You really know what you’re doing.”
Sloane looked up from counting the inlaid bricks on the sidewalk and crossed her arms. “Admit it.”
He turned to walk backward. “Admit what? That you’re brilliant?”
Her feigned indignation halted like a scratched record, insides plunging at the look in his eyes. “I was just going to say that food writers are more competent than you think.”
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
Sloane shook her head, grinning at the sidewalk.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
“After you.” Cooper held open the restaura
nt door.
“Thanks.” Sloane felt the toe of her boot catch on the corner of the stiff rubber mat and sucked in a sharp breath before she stumbled into somebody.
And once again, it was Owen’s strong hands wrapped around her arms that rescued her.
“Are you going for frequent flier miles, Miss Bradley?” he drawled, his dark eyes twinkling in amusement as his fingers traced from her elbow to her shoulder.
Sloane felt warmth spread across her cheeks and pulled her arms away. Any reply lunged down her throat when she saw his father standing next to him, face the color of beets and cheeks puffing with the failed attempt to form words.
Cooper took a step forward, wedging himself between her and Owen.
“Where have you been?” his father asked. “We’ve been waiting here for over half an hour.”
“What? I thought it started at ten.” Sloane’s pulse galloped as she dug through her bag for the paper-clipped stack of paper. The one she knew had the meeting time written on her official J. Marian Restaurants docket.
“She was right on time, Dad.”
“See?” She tilted the paper in Mr. Cooper’s direction. “Executive staff presentation. Ten o’clock.” Though she was sure the fact that the time and place were written in green pencil lent loads of credence to her claim.
Mr. Cooper turned to his older son. “When I called her, Sandra swore up and down that you told her ten-thirty.”
Cooper squared up to his father, his features lit with blazing intensity. “Then there clearly must have been a miscommunication somewhere. Sloane can email you a summary if you want, but I’m the one who hired her, and I’m confident she’s on the right track.”
Mr. Cooper’s eyes darted between Sloane and Cooper. “You know what? I think I’ll have Sandra reschedule with the two of you.”
“Here we go again,” Owen said under his breath, turning away from them.
“I think I deserve assurance, son, that you won’t miss any more important commitments because of this restaurant.”
Sloane’s jaw dropped along with her eyes at the bitterness in the last word. Even Owen seemed to choke in surprise. Awkward was an understatement for the charged silence between the father and sons, Cooper glaring at Owen. And then, with a disapproving shake of his head, Mr. Cooper snatched his jacket and briefcase with one hand and dialed his phone with the other.
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