Sadie's Highlander
Page 28
“By all means, lass. Have a go under there…if ye’d like,” he invited, his smile bold and daring.
“That won’t be necessary.” Joanna cut through Grant with her iciest stare. Contract or not, who did this Mr. MacAss think he was?
“No. It’s right there. See it?” Annamae said.
Joanna bent and made a quick sweeping glance under the table in question, struggling against the wickedly curious urge to give Grant’s spread-eagled position a closer look. We so need to get out of here. She straightened and shook her head. Time to herd these troublemakers to the bus. “All I see is a napkin. I’ll tell the cashier and they can watch for it. If it’s here, I’m sure they’ll find it tonight while cleaning up and we can stop by tomorrow and get it.”
“No.” Georgetta shook her head emphatically. “Violet won’t rest if she doesn’t have it. It’s right over there. Here—I’ll show you.”
Too late, Joanna realized she was no match for Georgetta Millsap’s well-aimed hip. A solid bump to the back of her legs and a firm shove to the small of her back sent her diving forward—not under the table but straight into Grant MacDara’s lap.
Her C-cup girls thumped hard against Grant’s muscular chest, then her forehead popped his with a stinging smack. Nose to nose, her elbows on either side of his head, Joanna struggled to catch her breath and blink away the stars muddling her vision. Damn, talk about hard heads. Straddling one of his legs, Joanna floundered to get away. This is so not going well. We’ll lose that contract for sure.
Grant clamped both hands around her waist and lifted her into the air with a jerk that immediately halted her struggling. “Have a care, lass. Yer about to unman me with yer knees.”
“Sorry,” Joanna said just as her hands slipped off the slick vinyl back of his chair and she buried his face almost ear-deep into the V-neck of her shirt, which was currently stretched so low from its pinned state that the lace of her red bra framed Grant’s cheeks nicely.
“Oh my, God.” Joanna panic-rolled to the right, tangled both feet around Grant’s booted foot, and ended up on the floor. Inside, she was screaming, I’m going to kill those old ladies! Out loud, amazing even herself with her calm, authoritative tone, she pointed toward the front of the café. “Hazel! Get everyone on the bus. Now.”
Strong hands gripped her shoulders, lifted her up from the floor, and steadied her to her feet. “Are ye all right then? Ye landed with quite the jar.”
Damn him. He would switch gears and act like a gentleman now. And double-damn him, tonight, he sounds like the sexy voices from some of my audiobooks. That get-me-naked Scottish burr and all. Did he sound like that the day of the meeting? Surely, she would’ve noticed. And the heat of him…and the smell. He must’ve had pancakes for dinner because he smelled like maple syrup. She adored maple syrup. Stop drooling and snap out of it! Get the hell out of here.
Joanna swallowed hard, forced a smile, and took a step back as she jerked her clothes back in place. “I’m fine. Thank you. Just fine.”
Grant gallantly dipped his chin with the hint of a smile that said he knew acknowledging her answer any other way might befuddle her even further. Glancing down, his dark brows suddenly drew together and he pointed to the floor. “Is this what yer seeking?” Grant bent and retrieved a bright purple, rhinestone-studded glasses case from under his chair.
When in the ever-loving hell had those conniving old women had time to plant that? Joanna knew damn good and well that Violet couldn’t have tossed her case that far from where she was sitting on the other side of their table. No way could she have managed a move like that without being noticed.
From what Joanna had seen, the confused woman had a hard enough time keeping up with what day it was. She seemed to stay in a fog and the other ladies sheltered her. All of them except Gladys. Gladys, who was nearly a savant when it came to numbers, was just as perplexed by life as Violet.
Joanna took the case from Grant and snapped open the lid. Sure enough, embroidered in the silk lining were the letters V. W. Violet Woodard. Joanna snapped the lid shut and glared through the wall of café windows at the sleek black tour bus waiting outside. The bus’s windows were tinted, so she couldn’t see its interior, but it was a safe bet that there were seven old noses pressed to the windows trying to see how their little plan was playing out. If Lucia ever takes on another group of geriatric gangsters, I’ll kill her.
Joanna gave Grant her politest smile and her most apologetic shrug. They didn’t need this crap getting reported to the MacDaras’ lawyer or the CEO. “Thank you—for all your help.”
She scooped her shoulder bag off the chair and shoved the case into it. “I’m really sorry that my group and I interrupted your evening.” She blew out a weary sigh. “I swear I’ll do my best to make them behave during the rest of their stay here.” I think shock collars are the only thing that will work, and Georgetta will probably rewire those and trash them in minutes.
“Dinna fash yerself. I’m sure ye didna—”
“Ye didna ruin his evenin’,” interrupted the sandy-haired MacDara brother still sitting at the table. He grinned at her with a sly wink and a raised glass.
“Aye,” the other brother chimed in, raising his glass too and clinking it to his brother’s. “He’s been a-moonin’ after ye ever since the day ye met at the contract meeting. ’Tis about time the two of ye had another…” The brother cleared his throat and lifted his glass higher. “…meeting. Here’s to the sly battle-plannin’ of old hens! May our brother learn a thing or two about wooin’ the lasses so he doesna need a flock of cailleachs to secure his match.”
Love stories you’ll never forget
By authors you’ll always remember
eOriginal Romance from Random House
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