Читать книгу The C.e.o.'S Unplanned Proposal - Karen Whittenburg Toller - Страница 12

The cell phone rang just as Katie walked out the front door of Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow. She’d chosen the salon because it was only a short walk from the bus stop and because the name struck her as funny. And appropriate. In a couple of weeks she’d be gone, on her way to another place, a change of scene, the next new adventure of her life. She liked Providence, could see herself spending a year or two or three or more here. But the longer she stayed, the harder it would be to leave and there were other cities she wanted to experience, other places she wanted to see. Moving around was the way she exercised her restless spirit and kept her personality on its toes. It was the way she celebrated the lives of the family she’d lost, the way she made amends for being the only survivor. Change was always a positive in her opinion, a necessary discomfort, and in deference to that creed, her hair was gone…well, a lot of it, anyway.

The phone rang again and she pulled her curious fingers away from the springy cap of natural curls to reach into her bag for the phone. The Caller ID read Unavailable, but in some cities, the listing agency’s number came up that way and since she was expecting a call from Caroline about a house-sitting job in Baton Rouge, Katie clicked on, expecting to hear a familiar Mid-western accent. “Hello?”

“Ms. Canton?”

Definitely not Caroline—the tones too crisp and rounded—but perhaps someone else in the office. “Yes?”

“My name is Nell Russell. I work for Adam Braddock, Braddock Industries. Mr. Braddock asked me to call and arrange a time for your visit to Braddock Hall this week. He mentioned he’d spoken with you about it on Friday.”

Katie blinked, a bit taken aback by the way the woman’s voice fairly vibrated with importance every time she said Braddock. And she’d said it a lot in that five-second introduction. “As a matter of fact, he did—”

“Mr. Braddock said that if you hadn’t phoned by nine-thirty this morning, I was to reach you at this number and set up a time for Benson to drive you to Sea Change. I know it’s already ten, but I did want to catch you before you left your office for lunch.”

Katie glanced at the traffic buzzing past, the deli on the corner, the bank across the street, and opened her mouth to say she didn’t have an office. Or have need of one.

“I can arrange a time to call back later today, if it would be more convenient,” Ms. Russell continued, her voice picking up speed. “But Mr. Braddock was very specific in his instructions. It’s important that we arrange a time this week for you to visit Braddock Hall. It’s only a little over six weeks until Mr. Archer Braddock’s birthday, as I’m sure you are aware, and the sooner we get this trip scheduled, the sooner you can get your plans underway for the party.”

Katie plunged in before the last syllable cleared the airwaves. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. You see, Mr. Braddock called the wrong—”

“I understand completely,” Nell said, demonstrating that she didn’t listen any better than her employer. Or maybe she wasn’t programmed to accept any possibility that the name, Braddock, and the word, mistake, could occur in the same conversation. “I know you’re very busy, Ms. Canton, and I’ll be brief. I’ve been instructed by Mr. Braddock to put Benson and the Rolls at your disposal and accommodate your schedule for any day this week you’re available. If it would be of any assistance at all, I’m certain Mr. Braddock wouldn’t mind if I helped make the calls necessary to shift your appointments and clear some time on your calendar. So is tomorrow possible for you? Or the day after?”

Katie stepped to the curb, out of the flow of pedestrian traffic, and pressed the phone closer to her ear to cut some of the noise. Although why she should be trying so hard to hear, was difficult to say. A chance to explain the misunderstanding didn’t appear to be on the agenda as Nell Russell barely paused for breath. “Thursday would work almost as well as tomorrow, but Friday is late in the week and the traffic is just terrible and with Mr. Bryce Braddock and Mr. Peter Braddock home for the weekend, I’m afraid you’ll run into more distractions than earlier in the week, but if that’s the only day you can schedule the visit, we will, of course, accommodate you.”

There was a pause, and Katie jumped in, her sense of the ridiculous rising to the occasion. It wasn’t as if anyone was listening to what she said anyway. “As luck would have it, today’s my only free day, so you see, I won’t be able to make that trip after all.”

“Today might work,” Nell said, a lightbulb of possibility going off in her voice. “Hold a moment, please.”

Faster than Katie could backtrack and say, Oh, wait, today won’t work, she was on hold and wondering why she hadn’t specified that today wasn’t even up for consideration. She should just hang up. But Adam Braddock had no doubt instructed his secretary to keep calling until Katie agreed to go.

So why didn’t she? Agree to go, that is. It was her day off and she’d never been to the town of Sea Change, never even heard of it until Adam’s call. She’d never been invited to tour a house with a name, either. That might be fun. Plus, there was the ride in the Rolls to sweeten the temptation.

“Ms. Canton?” Nell was back. “Are you in town, now?”

Hard to deny, since the traffic noise was all around her. “Yes, but—”

“Wonderful. If you’ll give me your directions, Benson will pick you up within the next thirty minutes, drive you to the estate and bring you back this evening. I’m so glad this has worked out. Mr. Braddock would be most upset if we’d failed to make this connection. He’s anxious for you to see Braddock Hall. It’s a lovely place and I’m sure you’ll enjoy the drive down, as well as touring the grounds. This is a good time for you, then?”

Katie debated with her conscience. She would be going under false premises, true. But she hadn’t misled anyone and she had tried to correct the misunderstanding. While only a precocious preteen, she’d adopted the physicians’ creed of First, Do No Harm as her own…and really, what harm could there be in her going for a drive with Benson in the Rolls? Adam Braddock was no closer to finding a legitimate party planner whether she took a ride in his car or not. And she could always figure out some way to pay Benson for the gas. She knew she’d regret not taking the chance and, when all was said and done, her main goal in living was to end every day with as few regrets as possible.

“Now is the perfect time for me,” she said, decision made. “Tell Benson, I’ll be waiting on the corner of—” She glanced up at the street signs, “Weybosset and Orange whenever he arrives. And thank you.” Katie clicked off the phone, dropped it into the depths of her bag, and gave her new crop of curls a saucy toss to shake off the nagging voice of reproach.

Okay, so she could have, probably should have, tried harder to explain. But life was short and she’d vowed to experience all that it offered with her chin up, and her hopes high. She owed that much to the family she’d lost so long ago that she couldn’t even remember their smiles. She owed that much and more to the lost little girl she once had been. To live every moment as if it were a gift was the only promise she’d ever made to herself…and right or wrong, she was taking a ride in Adam Braddock’s Rolls-Royce. She was going to enjoy every moment of the experience, too. And if tomorrow it still seemed necessary, she’d do her penance by looking up party planners in the Yellow Pages and phoning Nell with a selection of names and phone numbers. It was the least she could do.

Someone in the milling crowd jostled her as the light changed from Don’t Walk to Walk. As people moved past her into the crosswalk, busy with their own agendas, she backed up to the wall of the building on the corner and allowed her lips a whimsical grin. Anticipation bubbled inside her, and she felt a little sorry for anyone who wasn’t her, standing on the corner of Weybosset and Orange, waiting for the Rolls to come for her.

SO MUCH FOR ANTICIPATION, she thought as she stepped into the back of the silver-gray automobile and came face-to-face with Adam Braddock. What the heck was he doing here? And what would she say when he demanded to know what a waitress was doing climbing into his Rolls-Royce?

“Ms. Canton? I’m Adam Braddock,” he said, glancing up and extending his hand over the top of the small computer on his lap. “So nice to meet you.”

“Hello,” she said, realizing he hadn’t recognized her. Yet. The door closed behind her with a sturdy ka-thud and as it was too late to make a run for it, she settled onto the seat with a soft, leathery sshhplop, and returned his solid handshake with a limp-wrist brush of her fingers. “Nice car.”

His handsome face barely registered a vague smile before his eyes were back on the computer screen. “I’m glad you were able to make the trip to Braddock Hall on such short notice.”

“I, uh, wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“It’s an unexpected trip.” He frowned at the computer screen and typed in a response.

Katie fidgeted on the seat, wishing he’d recognize her and get it over with, thinking this car seat was made of the softest leather ever to come into contact with her own seat, wondering if there was any way she could get out of this situation gracefully. “Sort of unexpected or really unexpected?”

“What?” His tone barely made it a question, his eyes didn’t stray from the screen.

“Well, if it’s sort of unexpected, like a broken water heater, then this probably isn’t the best time for me to visit and we ought to just reschedule, but if it’s really unexpected, like someone in the family has appendicitis, then I should just get out of the car now and let you make the trip by yourself.”

“No.” His voice for all its vagueness, sounded pretty authoritative. “That isn’t necessary.”

But Katie wasn’t giving up on escape that easily. “But if someone’s ill—”

“Christmas decorations,” he said succinctly.

“What?”

“Christmas decorations,” he repeated, displaying not a single other sign he realized she was sitting beside him in the car.

“Christmas…in May?”

He picked up a phone—conveniently positioned in the door console—and punched in a number. One number, rapid dial. Naturally. “Lara,” he said sharply into the phone. “The stock’s moving. Any word from Wallace?”

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?”