by Linda Kage
“Ah,” Braxton replied and motioned toward them. “Yep. It must’ve been the shoes.”
Lenna grinned. Her heart slammed against her ribcage when he returned the smile.
Step Two, she decided: Never, ever, smile at Prince Charming.
It really was too bad he was her father’s boss. Not only was he prime eye-candy, but some of his mannerisms were boyishly adorable. She just wanted to pull him into a big hug and cuddle. And laugh. She had a strange sense they’d laugh a lot together, among other much naughtier things.
She ducked her face from his love-struck stare and stepped into the building. Lenna shattered the first step of her whole “resist and evade” theory by meeting his gaze.
He didn’t look like he could take his attention off her, and she blushed all over again.
The door began to fall closed between them; Lenna continued to break her rule as she held his stare.
But at the last moment before they were separated, his eyes widened. “Wait!” He jumped toward the closing portal and stuck his hand out to stop it from shutting only to catch his fingers in the latch.
As he cursed, Lenna yanked the door open. “Are you okay?”
Clutching his smashed digits with his good hand, he nodded. “I forgot. Tom moved his office yesterday. I didn’t know if you were aware.”
Lenna frowned and pulled back. “He did?”
Braxton nodded again and took a moment to catch his breath. “He’s on the third floor, uh...” He paused and lifted his head as if to think. “In the southeast corner.”
Lenna’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, a corner office, huh?”
Braxton gave her a slight smile. “Do you want me to follow you up and show you where it is?”
Yikes! Step three. Never agree to anything Prince Charming suggests.
She shook her head. “I’m sure I’ll find it. But thanks for the heads up.”
Taking her answer as the dismissal it was, Braxton nodded and stepped back outside. “Good luck on your game,” he called just as the glass doors closed between them.
Lenna whirled away and lifted her hand to her racing heart. Whew. That had been a close one.
What exactly it’d been close to, she had no idea. But she felt like she’d just narrowly escaped something huge.
As she hurried toward her father’s office, Lenna realized she really needed to work on her resisting skills.
* * * *
Braxton thought about Davenport’s daughter throughout lunch.
He didn’t get it. Out of all the fathers in the entire world, how was it possible she’d ended up with Satan as hers?
Braxton figured the biggest barrier to surmount in his becoming a successful president over the company was Tom Davenport. He needed to get the crotchety old coot in his corner because too many people respected and looked up to Tom for leadership.
Braxton knew if he could win Tom over, then everyone else would slip neatly into place behind him. But banging the man’s daughter definitely would not win him any brownie points.
Unfortunately.
That didn’t stop him from thinking about her, though. And boy did he think. She’d looked really good in the sporty gear she’d been wearing at lunch. It was a complete one eighty from the classy apparel she’d worn to the Christmas party. But it looked equally sexy on her. Lenna Davenport had a body that could wear anything. He liked that versatile feature about her.
Jesus Christ. Just listen to him. He sounded like some kind of lovesick fool. He liked the versatility of her clothing? Could he possibly be any more of a dweeb?
Braxton glanced at the people deep in discussion around him. It was late afternoon, and the meeting he’d scheduled was running way past the time he thought it would. But he was pleased they were making progress. His employees had actually relaxed in the past hour. They kept throwing out all these ideas and Braxton loved it.
And he should probably be paying more attention to what was being said.
His eyes strayed toward Tom Davenport instead. The man would kill him if he knew how much Braxton had been daydreaming about Lenna lately. But hey, it wasn’t as if he was ever going to see her again. What harm were a few wet dreams?
A lot, apparently.
Visions of her already kept him up at night, cutting into his sleep and making him groggy and drained during the day. Now, he was losing his concentration during meetings and phasing out when he shouldn’t be. Next, he’d probably make all sorts of bad business decisions and totally wreck his father’s company.
“Okay,” he announced, tossing his pen on the table and letting out a breath as the anxiety built. “That should wrap it up for today. You guys had some great ideas.”
He glanced at the legal pad in front of him, glad to see he’d actually jotted down a number of the comments and thoughts made. Good. At least his writing hand had been paying attention.
Everyone still talked, arguing pros and cons, as they filed out. His employees looked satisfied and challenged. Well, most of them did.
Braxton glanced at Tom, who lingered behind, gathering a file he’d brought in. The moody scowl on Davenport’s face had Braxton’s eyes narrowing. He didn’t think he’d ever forget his encounter with the older man that first day he’d started as acting president.
He’d called all the top executives of the company into a meeting to discuss his plans for the future. He was starting his first speech as the new company leader and he hadn’t even gotten through his greeting, thanking everyone for coming, when Tom interrupted him, right in the middle of a sentence.
“Just how much experience with selling aftermarket automobile parts do you have, Braxton?”
If the condescending tone in Davenport’s voice wasn’t bad enough, the distaste in his gaze definitely nudged things over the edge.
But Braxton had patiently responded to Tom’s question...and then to a few more. But as he spoke, he continued to make himself look less and less qualified for the position he’d just filled. Realizing he was losing all hope of gaining any respect, Braxton put a stop to Tom’s interrogation at question number four.
“You know, it doesn’t really matter how many years I’ve been graduated from college, or how old I am, or how much experience I have, Tom. I’m already here, I’m already in charge, and you can’t change that. If you have specific issues with me, personally, and want to address them further, why don’t you stay after the meeting where we can discuss it in private, away from company time.”
Okay, fine, he hadn’t responded with any sort of aplomb. All his diplomacy had gone straight out the window. He freely admitted his mistake.
Company presidents weren’t supposed to lose their tempers. But damn it, the guy had pushed the wrong button. He’d pushed, period. And Braxton needed to let his people know he couldn’t be pushed. What kind of leader would he be if he let bullies harass him?
So, he’d laid down the law with his first bully.
And Tom had puffed himself up with righteous indignation, proceeding to glower at Braxton throughout the rest of the meeting. He’d been nothing but obstinate, confrontational, and defiant ever since.
Staring at Davenport now, Braxton’s gut burned as if he’d swallowed a liter of acid. He didn’t like this man, didn’t think he ever could. But Lenna...he liked.
“How’d your game go?” he couldn’t help but ask.
Tom looked up in surprise.
Braxton shrugged. “I ran into your daughter on my way to lunch.” It was probably going to leave a bruise too...and not just on his thigh. “She told me about your basketball matches.”
Tom’s face mellowed. “Lenna,” he murmured and smiled the proud-papa smile.
Braxton blinked. Had Tom Davenport just smiled at him?
“We play on Tuesdays, once a month,” Tom added, then shook his head and continued to grin. “God, that girl keeps me in shape, running all over the court to block her shots. She’s got a killer lay-up. I almost miss the days when she couldn’t make a basket t
o save her life. I sweated a lot less, anyway.”
Braxton smiled at the thought, imagining a young Lenna heaving a ball nearly as big as her toward the basket, needing both hands to shoot.
God, she must’ve been adorable.
“It was the cutest thing you ever saw,” Tom murmured.
Jerking himself back to reality, Braxton glanced at Lenna’s dad. Something about the nostalgic look on the older man’s face made him pause. The knot of hatred inside him loosened, and he couldn’t despise Davenport as much as he had thirty seconds before. But damn it, how could he when he was the very man who’d given life to the woman who’d been haunting his dreams since the night he met her?
Unsure if he wanted to hear more about Lenna, or if he wanted to find some kind of connection with Tom, he asked, “She’s your oldest, right?”
“She sure is. I have two others. After her, there’s Aaron, who’ll be a senior next year, and then Janette’s my middle school drama queen.” He sighed like a typical proud papa. “It’s amazing how fast they grow. My baby’s about to enter high school. But what really aged me was packing up Lenna and sending her to college.” He paused, looking a little lost. “And now she’s graduated.”
He met Braxton’s gaze and immediately narrowed his eyes as if he thought Braxton had tricked him into loosening up. Gruffly, he cleared his throat and made a move to leave.
“What degree did she graduate with?” Braxton asked, stalling.
Tom paused, indecision clouding his features. Then he replied, “Communications.” As Braxton nodded to show he was listening. Tom went on. “She’s been out for seven months now, and the dad gum girl is still working at that stupid restaurant, The Rockford Lounge.”
Braxton’s eyebrows rose. Oh, did she now?
Even as he told himself he might need to head to the Lounge one of these evenings to order a meal, his conscience warned him to stay away. Forget about her, bud. She’s forbidden, remember.
“That’s a nice place.”
Tom sent him a dry look. “She’s a waitress. She didn’t just work her ass off through four years of college to wait tables six days a week.”
Wanting to defend the woman he remembered talking to at the Christmas party, Braxton said, “Finding the right career takes time, Tom.”
Davenport scowled, not looking too receptive to receive any kind of advice from his kid superior.
Braxton knew he should’ve just kept his mouth shut. But there was something about Tom’s daughter that made him protective. It was more than how good she looked in any outfit, too. He might have only spent fifteen minutes in her company at the party but, in that time, they’d connected as he couldn’t recall ever connecting with anyone.
They fit. He knew they would fit together like—
Ahh...He should just get it out of his head already. Nothing was ever going to happen between him and Lenna Davenport.
Red in the face, Tom quickly gathered his papers and muttered, “Excuse me.”
As he stalked from the office, Braxton slumped into an empty chair and closed his eyes.
“Smooth move, ex-lax,” he muttered. He should’ve kept his big mouth shut. What right did he have to tell Tom how to treat his own daughter? He needed to befriend Davenport, not irritate him by sticking his nose where it didn’t belong.
Groaning at his stupidity, Braxton collected his things and forced himself to focus on work. As soon as he returned to his office, he began to read through the ideas from the meeting.
He was scratching out his own notes in the margins and circling things he liked as well as marking out bad ideas when his phone rang.
“Farris,” he answered.
“God, you already sound like some hoity-toity president, don’t you?”
Greg Scanlon, his buddy who’d started ProTech, loved to harass him about his new position.
Braxton grinned. “Man, I’m just trying to keep up with you. If you think you need to run your own company, then so do I.”
“Shit, if you’d leave those stuffy old auto parts and come back to me, I’d make you my partner.”
Braxton ignored the leap in his pulse at the very idea. But how cool would it be to help Greg run ProTech? The very idea made him salivate—
But he had obligations he couldn’t ignore.
Though his buddy couldn’t see his face, Braxton forced a grin. “And leave my cushy office here? Sorry, bud, but this is where the money’s at.”
Not that he’d been making nickels and dimes at ProTech, but yeah, he did get a higher salary at Farris. It was too bad money had nothing to do with his reasons for filling his father’s shoes. If it did, he’d be a lot happier about the decision he’d made.
“You say that now,” Greg said in a cajoling voice, “but in another two months you’re going to start missing us over here.”
Braxton didn’t need another two months. He already missed them.
“And do you know what I’m going to say when you come crawling back to me?”
“Welcome back. It’s about time,” Braxton guessed.
Greg laughed. “Oh, hell. You know me too well.”
No, they’d merely repeated this same conversation one too many times.
“Anyway,” Greg went on. “That’s not why I called.”
“And here I thought that was the only reason you ever cared to talk to me anymore.”
He could almost see his friend roll his eyes. “Ha, ha. But seriously, I need a favor.”
“Yeah, I know. You need me to return to ProTech.”
“Besides that.”
Smile slipping, Braxton grew alert to the distressed sound in Greg’s voice. “Sure thing, pal. Name it.”
“Well, you see, there’s this girl,” Greg started.
Braxton paused. Greg needed help with a girl? That didn’t sound right. Greg never needed help with women. He was always bragging about his latest score. “Yeah?” he asked slowly.
“Okay, here’s the deal. We met. We clicked. And I asked her out. But—and this is the kicker—she never goes out with a guy for the first time without doubling with her best friend. It’s some kind of personal security thing they made up.” Seeing exactly where this was headed, Braxton instantly blurted out, “No.”
“Hey. You haven’t even heard my question yet.”
Yeah, well Braxton didn’t need to hear the question. “I don’t do blind dates,” he stated firmly. “Especially with guard dogs.”
“But—”
“No,” Braxton repeated.
“Brax, my man,” Greg coaxed. “Trust me on this. I’ve seen the girl you would be with. She’s not the usual guard dog. Her name’s Erica and she’s a complete babe. A real beauty.”
Braxton highly doubted it. Besides, if Erica was so gorgeous, then Greg would be after her instead of her friend.
“Mmm hmmm,” he murmured. “Then why’s she still available?”
There was a pause and Greg said, “Hell, I don’t know. Why is any hottie ever available?”
Lenna Davenport’s face appeared in his head, and he conceded his friend had a point. It didn’t seem possible a girl like Lenna didn’t have guys following her home from the supermarket.
A horrifying thought struck him. Oh, shit.
What if she did have a man? What if she was serious with some great guy who bought her lots of presents and treated her like—
“Did you just hang up on me?” Greg’s voice growled in his ear.
Braxton sighed. God, he had to quit thinking about Tom’s daughter.
“Okay, fine,” he muttered. Maybe a night out with a “hottie” would take his mind off Lenna.
“But you owe me big time.”
CHAPTER 4
He was four days into the New Year, and Braxton had a premonition it was going to be one sucky-ass year.
He sat slumped in a chair at a small table of the Wild Side Night Club and fiddled with the label on his Heineken bottle, already dying to get home.
Braxton needed to mu
rder his good ol’ pal, Gregory. Erica, his date for the evening, was on the dance floor, gyrating to the music and having the time of her life. Braxton glanced at her and shuddered.
She wasn’t ugly, not by a long shot, but—
Braxton shuddered again. He didn’t think there were words to describe Erica Wright.
Personable? Yes, she seemed plenty personable and acted interested in what anyone had to say. Very interested. But, to put it plainly, the woman liked to space invade. She simply got way too close whenever he talked to her.
For a while, Braxton was convinced she did it on purpose, thinking herself a comedian. But as the evening progressed, he realized she had no idea she freaked people out when she got right in their face—usually about six inches away—whenever they tried to start a conversation.
Somebody needed to tell her about personal room. But Braxton decided he wasn’t going to be the guy to do it.
She seemed to have a good sense of humor, though. She was a cheerful gal. Then again, she had the most God-awful nasally laugh. Braxton actually felt kind of sorry for her. She seemed nice.
It was too bad he was bothered by her quirks.
He’d glanced quickly in Greg’s direction the first moment he met her—right after she had approached him as if she wanted to inspect his nostrils for nose hairs. But Greg had cleverly kept his gaze from falling anywhere near Braxton. The lousy traitor. He’d known all along about Erica’s space problem.
“Never again,” he muttered to himself.
There was no way he was ever going on another blind date in his life.
The room was loud, so no one heard his muttered ravings. It was smoky too, and packed with a bunch of crazy college kids.
Braxton sat by himself at a tall table for four. While Greg stood at the bar, getting another round of Pina Coladas for the ladies, their two dates continued having a blast on the dance floor.
He slumped even further into his chair. With one foot propped on the edge of the table, he tried to balance his Heineken on his stomach as he glanced around the swarming club.
