The C.E.O.'s Unplanned Proposal Read online

  He listened so intently Katie could all but feel the energy of his thoughts. He was as smoothly controlled as the car in which they were riding and exuded the same sort of luxuriant power. Harnessed. Refined. But there was frustration beneath the surface, and it was a quite incredibly perfect surface, too. His dark hair was cut with the precision of a master stylist, not too short, not too long, not a hair out of place. Perfect from every angle. His clothes, too—a dark gray suit, white shirt, exemplary tie, right down to the Windsor knot—reflected a pristine attention to detail. His profile—almost the only angle she had been shown since she got in the car—revealed the same strong, even features as a face-on view. In other words, perfect. She’d thought he was attractive in the restaurant, of course, but here in his natural habitat, he was quite extraordinarily handsome. Even better to look at than the Rolls…and that was saying something. Katie leaned back against the supple leather seat and watched him in profile, deciphering from his intense expression and his silence that he was capable of listening when he wanted to do so. Or when he was interested. What would it be like, she wondered, to have a man like Adam Braddock focus that same intensity on her? What would it take to engage his interest?

  Of course, when he realized she was a waitress at The Torrid Tomato and not the events planner he’d hired, sight unseen, for an exorbitant amount of money, she just might find out. She figured he’d be angry with her, even though the fault was largely his. No doubt he had yes-women at his beck and call, in the office and out of it, too, and she didn’t imagine he ever took kindly to hearing explanations. It was too much to ask of perfection, she supposed, to expect him to entertain the idea that had he only listened to her for two minutes in the first place, she wouldn’t be in his car right now.

  Okay, so it was her own choice to be in the car. She couldn’t exactly blame him for that. But still he ought to be gentlemanly enough to share some of the responsibility.

  “Good work, Lara. Remember, as far as Wallace knows, I’m unavailable the rest of the week. Let’s see if he doesn’t break a sweat by this time tomorrow.” He hung up without another word. No good-byes necessary with Lara, apparently. Or perhaps he was already so engrossed in the activity on his little computer screen he didn’t know he hadn’t given a polite “over-and-out” to the conversation. That made more sense, she decided, as he didn’t seem to remember he wasn’t alone, either.

  Katie fidgeted a little more, wondering what it would take to persuade him to look up from that computer. Conversation, clearly, wouldn’t. And she didn’t give a simple, straightforward request much of a shot, either. Even if he were polite enough to pretend an interest in any discussion she proposed, she’d receive barely half of his attention. At best. Studying his intense and concentrated expression, Katie doubted he’d notice if she stripped naked and tossed her clothes out the window. Maybe if she started with her shoes and aimed them at his window…or at him? But the way her luck was running so far, she’d probably just hit him in the head with her Birkenstock sandal and knock him unconscious. Which wouldn’t be much of an improvement.

  Plus, there was probably some law against being barefoot—much less naked—in a Rolls-Royce…whether the owner noticed or not. She tapped her feet on the lush carpet of the floorboard, wished she’d worn her Old Maine Trotters instead of the sturdy sandals, even though she had just treated herself to a pedicure at the beauty salon. She wiggled her toes and wondered if she would be admitted to the pretentious-sounding Braddock Hall in her denim jumper and red T-shirt or if some haughty butler would quietly suggest she slip on a jacket and tie or send her around to the back door. Shifting her backpack purse to the seat beside her, she wished her phone would ring, so she could demonstrate to Adam Braddock that she was no more focused on him than he was on her. He might even enjoy eavesdropping on her conversation. It was possible he was simply shy and lacking in social—as well as listening—skills. She cut a sidelong glance to him and sighed, again. What was she thinking? The man practically had skills oozing out of every pore. And she had no doubt he could turn on considerable charm when it occurred to him to do so. Why would she think for two seconds that she could best him in a dueling phones scenario? He’d have her on the mat before the second ringy-ding-ding.

  She subdued yet another sigh and turned to gaze out the window, but the Rolls, for all its seamless negotiation, had yet to pull away from the city landscape and there was nothing much to see. Unless she counted the way the smoky tint on the glass shaded the outside world, turning the sky and everything under it muted and pale, while enclosing her in a serene bubble of privacy and soft, soothing color. Even the music drifting like a slight breeze around her was meant to be unobtrusive and formless, a background for Braddock business conducted while traveling from one office to another. There was even a glass partition between the back seat and Benson, which precluded learning anything about him, except that the back of his silver head wasn’t that fascinating. Her gaze sidled over to see what she could see on the computer screen and as that proved to be not much, her body followed, sliding gradually into a forty-five degree angle where she could just begin to make out the data on the computer. Numbers. Lots of…

  “Are you interested in the stock market, Ms. Canton?”

  She tried to be as graceful as possible while sliding back to an upright position. “Isn’t everyone these days? And you can call me Katie.”

  His eyebrows went up slightly and a glimmer of amusement lit his whiskey-brown eyes for a second. “I thought we were going to keep our association strictly business,” he said.

  “Oh, we are.” She gave him one of her best mystery smiles—all lips, no teeth. Not that he noticed. “But since we’re sharing a ride and presumably some conversation along the way, it’ll be easier if we dispense with the mister and ms. stuff.”

  “Hmm.” His glance flicked over her, lingering on her glistening—thanks to the new haircut and a new Aveda product—hair and with a sinking sensation, she knew any minute now he’d be tossing her out on her waitress butt. But with only a faint and fleeting frown, his gaze cut back to the laptop. “Have you made any plans for my grandfather’s birthday, Katie?”

  If he’d had any recognition of her at all, it was gone with the latest shift in the Dow Jones. She was beginning to think the challenge was not in getting out of this situation with grace, but in getting him to notice she was in it in the first place. “I thought maybe I’d get him a tie. What about you?”

  The slight lift of his mouth showed that he wasn’t completely without a sense of humor. “I’m thinking along more practical lines. A small manufacturing company.”

  “That’s going to take a lot of wrapping paper.”

  “Good thing I own stock in Hallmark.” Again he tapped keys on the keyboard. “I meant, of course, what plans you may have made for the party.”

  “I’m only going to see the house,” she said candidly. “I haven’t given the party a single thought.”

  His frown might have been for her. Then again, maybe not. “That’s commendable,” he said.

  “It is?”

  His eyes stayed on the screen. “You haven’t wasted your creative energy making plans that could easily be thrown askew by logistics.”

  “No, indeed,” she agreed. “Because, of course, no one likes to be thrown askew.” She was rewarded with a sidelong glance and smiled to herself. “I mean, who knows when Christmas decorations are going to pop up and cause unexpected trips right smack in the middle of a perfectly pleasant May?”

  He pursed his lips slightly as the flow of data blinked and rolled across the computer screen. “Sea Change is a small town by anyone’s standards,” he said. “It’s neither by the sea nor particularly adaptable to change. Any change. Replacing the old, worn-out Christmas decorations has turned into a major undertaking, with half the town council voting to duplicate the original designs and the other half insisting on a more modern theme and everyone else disagreeing in general. Unfortunately, compromise isn
’t a word much used in our town and as I’m currently chairman of the town council, I’ve been summoned to an emergency meeting to decide the issue.” His fine brown eyes met her blue ones, and her silly heart skipped a beat. “Isn’t that what you wanted to know, Katie?”

  Okay, so it skipped two beats. Possibly three, altogether. Which only proved she was as susceptible to a handsome face as the next woman. “I was curious, yes. You’re obviously a busy man and well, Christmas decorations didn’t seem important enough to lure you out of your office. I thought you were just being evasive. Which is fine. It’s certainly none of my business why you’re making the trip to Sea Change. Today.” Of all days.

  His attention and his gaze unsettled her in equal measures, but his sudden smile made her glad she’d gotten out of bed this morning. “No need to worry, Katie. I won’t get in your way.”

  She laughed because that was so clearly implausible. “Too late.”

  Surprise lent a slight crinkling around his eyes, a gentler cast to his smile. “So you do have some plans in mind, after all.” He nodded, seeming satisfied that she was doing her job. “Commendable.”

  Apparently, she could do no wrong—as long as she was doing what he wanted done. “You’re easier to please than I expected. I’m commended if I don’t make any plans and commended if I do make them but just don’t want you to know I’ve made them.”

  “I trust people to do what’s expected of them in their own way and without my supervision.”

  “That’s a very optimistic attitude.”

  “It’s simply the only way to delegate authority. I don’t have the time or inclination to plan a party. That’s why I hired you and, as long as my grandfather has a good time, you have carte blanche to plan the party in any manner you see fit.”

  “Oh good, then the belly dancers are a go.”

  His smile slid into a patient amusement and his gaze slipped back to the computer. “He’ll be seventy-nine and he is in good health, but let’s not push the envelope.”

  “Gotcha,” she said as if making a note to herself. “Fun, but conservative. Dancing in, bellies out. Any other restrictions on this carte blanche you’ve given me?”

  “Only that you exercise good taste.”

  “Oh, well, if that’s a requirement, you’ll definitely need to find someone else.”

  There was a flicker of amusement in his eyes, a touch of humor in his solemn tones. “I’m glad to know you have a sense of humor, Katie, and I have the utmost faith in your judgment. I also trust you’re aware that a few words from me can greatly enhance your reputation. Or severely cripple it. It really is in your own best interest to ensure this party comes to pass without a hitch.”

  “Or a belly flop,” she said, wondering how he managed to stuff that much ego into his nice white shirt without getting either one wrinkled. “I think you can rest assured, Mr. Braddock, that I—”

  “Adam,” he corrected absently, his attention circling back on that dumb computer screen.

  “Adam,” she repeated dutifully, wishing his name didn’t feel so weightless and welcome in her mouth. “Rest assured I have no intention of—”

  The phone rang then, a distracting tweet of a noise, and he had it to his ear in a flash. In less than a second, she was forgotten, relegated to a blip in the background of his consciousness.

  “Yes, I see it,” he said, staring intently at the computer screen. “He’s a fool if he holds out much longer. He’ll lose everything. I haven’t a clue what he thinks he can gain by this. Put Allen on.”

  Katie listened—as if she could do anything but—while the one-sided conversation filled up with legal terms and contract points. A year or more ago, she’d worked in a Seattle brokerage firm for a few months and picked up enough of the lingo to recognize that Braddock Industries was conducting a surefooted and leveraged buyout. So Adam was getting his grandfather a manufacturing company for his birthday. Imagine that.

  “He can’t afford to be that obstinate. What is he thinking?” He snapped the words into the phone, but even Katie could tell it was a rhetorical question. No answer except the one he wanted would ever satisfy Adam Braddock. “Wallace can’t expect we’re going to make a better offer.”

  “He’s concerned about his employees,” Katie said, hardly aware she’d spoken her thoughts aloud, much less expecting to get any response to her unsolicited opinion.

  “What did you say?” Adam’s sharp tone brought her up short. “No, Allen,” he continued. “I was asking Katie…the events planner.”

  She gave a guilty start and realized she suddenly had his full and complete attention. “Me?”

  “What did you just say?”

  Offering another, now rather nervous, mystery smile, she gave a little shrug and repeated hesitantly, “He’s concerned about his employees?”

  Adam frowned, his gaze probing hers, a muscle flexing in his jaw, his concentration all on her and yet somewhere far away, too. The sheer energy of his thoughts seemed to pulse in the air around her and echo in the sound of her quickening heartbeat. In the future, she would be a little more careful about what she wished for. But then as unexpectedly as it had come, his focus shifted back to the computer screen and the person on the other end of the phone. “Let me talk to Lara.” The pause was barely discernible, before he was issuing instructions. “Sweeten the deal for the employees,” he said. “Job guarantees, severance packages, whatever inducements you think will get Wallace and his team to the table. I want this done right and I want it done now.”

  If Lara voiced anything other than swift obedience, she had wasted her breath because he clipped the phone back in the console almost before the last words were out of his mouth. “How did you know that?” he asked.

  Katie lifted her chin, determined to remain unintimidated by his brusque intensity. “I couldn’t exactly help overhearing your conversation.”

  He waved that away with an impatient hand. “What made you say what you did about the employees?”

  “I worked in a Seattle brokerage house for a while and I heard a lot of talk around the water cooler about a big merger that fell through because the president of the smaller company didn’t feel his employees were being given enough respect by the CEO of the big corporation. No one could believe the guy would give up several million dollars to protect his employees, but he did.” She shrugged. “Listening to your conversation made me remember, that’s all.”

  “I should have thought of that possibility myself,” he said, sounding rather astonished that he hadn’t and she had. “Someone on my team certainly should have. I can’t believe we’ve spent two weeks beating our heads against the wall and, out of the blue, you nail the problem.”

  “It was only a thought,” she said, not exactly flattered by his disbelieving tone. “I could be wrong.”

  “If you are, Braddock Industries stands to lose a substantial investment of time and money.”

  Sure thing. As if he’d take any risk based solely on her opinion. “In that case, if I’m right, you’ll owe me a substantial steak dinner. Dessert, too. And FYI, I prefer ice cream. None of that yogurt masquerading as ice cream. I like the real deal.”

  He tipped his head to the side, regarded her with a slow devastating smile. “Are you asking me out for dinner?”

  Whoa. Not her intention, at all. “Don’t toy with me, Adam. You’ll spoil my image of you.”

  “Do you think I wouldn’t let a woman take me out for dinner?”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t go out to dinner. You eat meals at your desk or in the car, in between phone calls and market updates. I’ll bet you and Benson are regulars at the McDonald’s drive-thru.”

  His laugh was even nicer than his smile. “You have a vivid imagination, which must be an asset in your line of work.”

  “Yes,” she said, feeling ever more hopeful she wasn’t going to find herself thumbing rides to get back home. “It’s also something you may want to remember in case you need an outside opini
on on the Great Christmas-Decoration Debate.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want to get mixed up in that. Sea Change doesn’t take kindly to the opinions of outsiders. That’s what’s caused most of this trouble in the first place.”

  Katie opened her mouth to reply, but the phone tweeted again, and she lost what little ground she might have gained. But then, why was she trying to gain anything with this guy? There was no place for an attraction—and she did admit there were a few elemental sparks of that zinging around in the back of the Rolls-Royce—to go. And what could possibly happen? She was a rolling stone. He was moss. She had a lot of living to do. He had a lot of phone calls to make. He was as out of her league as she was out of his. Teasing him, trying to lure him into showing some interest in her would only hasten her fall from grace and result in a long walk back to town. They were so far out of the city now, she doubted she could find a bus to catch if she waited all day. Better for her, if she ignored him and his conversations and just looked out the window as the cityscape changed to a soft, spring-green countryside. It was a much more realistic approach, too, considering that he was already communing with the computer and the phone, and was once again wholly oblivious to her presence beside him.

  “WELL, WHERE IS SHE?” Adam glanced at his watch before scanning the bustling town square of Sea Change, Rhode Island, wondering where Katie Canton could be.

  “I don’t know, sir.” Benson rubbed the base of his ear with one hand and adjusted the brim of his chauffeur’s cap with the other. “She was out of the car so fast, by the time I came around to open the door she was already gone.”

  “I was only gone fifteen minutes,” Adam said, glancing at his watch. “Why did she think I suggested she wait in the car?” He had spent his life being responsible, doing what he was supposed to do, taking care of business. He didn’t go gallivanting off every time there was a fifteen-minute window of opportunity. And he always told someone where he was going and how he could be reached. He did not have time to chase down an errant party planner, but it didn’t appear that he had any choice. “She didn’t say anything before she got out of the car? Nothing to indicate where she was going?”