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How to Resist Prince Charming(6)

By:Linda Kage


Mr. Farris rubbed the back of his neck and treated both Lenna and her dad to a tense smile. “Anyway,” he murmured. “I hope you both enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Then he backed a step away, turned on his heel, and escaped.

Lenna immediately spun to Tom. “Dad!”

“What?” He glanced at her with a don’t-start-with-me scowl.

Her mouth dropped open. “Are you always that rude to your boss?” No wonder the new Mr. Farris had threatened insubordinate termination.

Her dad’s answer was a small, unconcerned shrug. Lenna drew in a sharp breath, shocked to discover her father had an enemy. She’d never seen him so hostile before. He must truly and honestly despise having Braxton Farris for a superior.

  

She’d seemed nice. Hell, she’d seemed sweet.

Braxton wanted to bash his head against the top of the bar where he sat.

Staring at the lovely stranger from across the room hadn’t been enough for him, had it? No, he’d just had to go over there and meet her. Yep, and now, every night when he went to sleep, he was going to see the little dimple on the corner of her mouth that had appeared when she’d smiled at him. At him! God, she’d even blushed when she’d noticed him ogling her with her dad standing between them. If that wasn’t asking for Tom to strangle him, he didn’t know what was. The man already thought Braxton was the anti-Christ.

Now that he’d had a close-up of her face, though, heard the sound of her voice, and seen her sweet, polite smile, Braxton knew he was a goner.

He never should’ve gotten close enough to experience the rays of her smile. He felt sunburned in a good and hot, achy kind of way.

She danced with her dad a few times, and she took a swirl or two around the floor with a few of his cronies. But she never danced with anyone closer to her in age. Braxton decided not to push his luck in that department.

He stayed away.

Slouched on his stool, swirling white wine around the inside of his glass, he waited for an opportune moment to leave when he heard her voice. His body tensed as he listened to her order the same brand of wine he was currently chugging.

Braxton lifted his head and turned. She didn’t notice him next to her. He knew he should let it slide.

But he couldn’t seem to obey his brain.

“Sure you’re old enough to drink that?” he asked, causing her to whirl his way.

She blinked twice. After graciously accepting the wine glass the bartender passed her, she nodded toward his drink. “Are you?” Her eyes teased as she sipped.

Braxton beamed. She was going to talk to him. Yes!

“Well…” He bit his lip, unable to help himself. “I will be in four months.”

Lenna choked on the sip she’d just taken. “Oh, my God. You’re only twenty?”

He pulled his walled from his pocket and flipped it open to show her his I.D. She impressed him when she actually stepped forward and grasped the side of his billfold to check for herself.

A small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “But this says you’re twenty-four.”

“That’s because I am.” At her confused glance, he threw his head back and barked out a laugh.

With an appalled gasp, she slugged him lightly in the arm. “You are so evil. I actually believed you.”

His chuckle began to settle. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But Jesus, do I really only look twenty?”

She blinked and scanned him from head to toe, which made his entire body throb. “Maybe a very mature twenty.”

God. He wanted to touch her. So bad.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. Your dad treats me like I’m twelve, so I guess it all evens out.”

When her mouth pinched together with disapproval over the mention of Tom, Braxton gritted his teeth and commanded himself not go there again. Taboo subject. Do not enter.

Panicking because he’d messed up and she was probably going to leave, he blurted out, “Other than annoying company presidents trying to put one over on you, are you having a good time?”

She nodded. Her eyes were bright and somewhat glassy. He figured this wasn’t her first glass of wine tonight.

“I feel like Cinderella,” she admitted, and then blushed as if embarrassed for divulging such a claim.

Braxton almost uttered something else corny in response, something like it was too bad Cinderella couldn’t hold a candle to her.

But he managed to restrain himself. Thank God.

He glanced over his shoulder toward the dance floor. “Well, princess, have you picked out your prince yet?”

Lenna turned and studied the room. Playing along, she tapped her chin and murmured, “Hmm. I guess I’m still debating between Pat Foley and Charles Fairbanks.”