"Shit, everyone is just full of judgment in this fucking place today."
Diane walked around the table and pinched my cheek. "I'm not judging. But she's still not your type."
"Why not?" I asked, stupidly getting sucked into her baited trap.
Her long finger pointed at me. "Ah ha, so I was right."
"No, you're not right at all. I'm meeting her to discuss a business deal."
"Oh, I see." She clomped out on her tall shoes.
"And what's wrong with her? Why isn't she my type?" Obviously, I was still stuck on the end of her hook.
Diane turned and shrugged. "We had a chat for a few minutes. She seems smart, savvy and just a little too pure for Chase England, that's all."
"Why, thank you, Di. You're right. That's not the least bit judgy. Is she out in the waiting area?"
"Yep." Diane walked out, and I could hear her silly shoes on the tile floor of the hallway long after she left.
I walked to my desk, digesting Diane's words with some anger and wondering if she was right. That was when it struck me. Too pure? It was a strange thing to say, and yet, it resonated with me. Maybe that was what I kept seeing when I looked at her. I pulled a breath mint from my desk drawer and shoved it in my mouth before heading out to the waiting area.
Macy was standing in front of one of the four wide screen televisions in the waiting area watching, of all things, a cooking show. She heard my footsteps and turned toward me. Her tawny hair made her brown eyes look dark, like chocolate, and her skin had a sun-kissed glow to it. But it wasn’t one of those out of bottle tans. It was real, every golden inch of it. She had come straight from work, and she still had the fragrance of baked goods clinging to her clothes and skin. I briefly wondered what she might taste like. Deliciously sweet, no doubt. Damn, sometimes it seemed my friends and coworkers knew me better than I knew myself.
I'd arranged the meeting with every intention of discussing the business deal, but it was hard to deny that I was attracted to her.
She waved her arm around the cavernous room that had been decorated in colorful modern furniture and technology. "Impressive," she said. "But I guess it shouldn't have surprised me too much. I confess, I did a little research."
"That's smart business." I led her toward the offices. "So, what did you think? Find anything of interest?"
She pursed her lips in a shy smile. "Interesting is a good word."
"But our product is not for you?"
"I didn't say that. I just haven't ever seen anything quite like it."
"We try to please a wide swath of people, so we include a lot of variety."
"Yes, variety is another good word." She followed me into my office and sat in a chair across from my desk.
I sat in my chair. "I just talked to my partners, and they like the idea."
She dragged her eyes from the stunning view and looked at me. "I'm not sure I'm the right person for this job."
"Why not? Significant other wouldn't approve?" Yep, I was fishing for information and doing a clumsy job of it. And my out of left field question baffled her.
"Uh, no, I make my own decisions."
That told me nothing. "So you make your own decisions because you're on your own, or you just don't let him tell you what to do?"
She blinked at me in utter confusion. I couldn't blame her. I'd pretty much confused myself.
"Who's him? There's no him. It's just me."
I relaxed back, stunned at how relieved I was to find out there was no him.
She shook her head as if to straighten out the convoluted conversation we'd wound ourselves into. "Mr. England—" she started, and I corrected her to call me Chase. "Right. Anyhow, I just don't have enough hours in the day to get my pastries ready for the cart and make chocolates for your company. I'm sure there are plenty of candy makers who would be happy to take the job. Besides, I work out of my rental house. The kitchen is small. I'm just not equipped to take on a massive project." She reached into her pocket. "I've written down a few names and phone numbers of people you could call. I hope it helps."
She placed the paper on my desk and stood up. I hopped up too, my mind was dashing around, trying to think of some convincing argument.
"What if we sent some of our people to help you make the chocolates?"
"I don't think so. I only just got the business started, and I can't risk it. It's all I have right now. Thank you very much for the offer." She headed to the door.
"Have dinner with me," I blurted.
Macy stopped. Her head dropped and her ponytail fell forward, exposing her long white neck.
She looked back and flashed me a polite smile. "I don't think so."
I hurried around the desk. I had no idea if her rejection was causing me to want this more than anything or if it was still that thing that I just couldn't put my finger on. All I knew was I didn't want her to leave without some reassurance that I'd see her again, other than standing inside her kiosk selling coffee to my neighbors.
I circled around and stepped between her and the door. There was some irritation in her expression, but it was masked by a layer of hurt, something that I hadn't noticed before. Macy had gone through something recently, something ugly.
That realization threw me off for a second. I had no idea why I could read this woman so well. I was never great at figuring out women's thoughts, except when it came to sex. Then I could read them like a book. But I was a fool when it came to understanding them emotionally. But it was different with Macy. Was I just paying more attention than usual?
"Just dinner. How about it?"
Macy shook her head. "You seem very nice, but I'll be honest, I was engaged to a man like you before."
"You mean incredibly handsome and charming?"
She couldn't hold back her smile. "Actually, Trevor was handsome but not compared to you. You're sort of the gold standard on handsome. What I meant was I've had a silver spoon man once before. He was rich and arrogant. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but I've been hurt badly and I've grown a tough shell because of it."
"Well, on the charge of being born with a silver spoon, I can contradict you. No silver spoon. More like one of those flimsy plastic sporks they give you in the school lunch. My dad raised my three brothers and me in a two bedroom house where we didn't dare cut the crusts off our sandwiches because that meant throwing away food and we had no food to spare."
"I'm sorry," she sputtered, looking genuinely embarrassed. "I had no idea. It's just you purport yourself like someone who has been rich his whole life."
"Do I? Nicest compliment I've had today. Other than the gold standard on handsome. That one was pretty sweet. The arrogant remark, not so much."
"Sorry, that was poorly worded. My ex was arrogant, but I don't know you well enough to call you that. And I apologize for assuming you'd been born with your wealth. People who have made a lot of money the honest way deserve huge credit. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a lot of baking to do for tomorrow."
Trey came out of his office as I stood in the hallway and watched her leave.
"Is that the chocolate maker?" he asked.
"She's not interested. But she gave me some contacts."
"And you're watching her like a love struck puppy because . . ."
I looked at him. There was no need to lie to him because he always knew what I was thinking. I clapped him on the shoulder. "Because, my friend, I'm feeling like a fucking love struck puppy."
Trey's laughed boomed through the hallway.
"What the hell? You don't think I'm capable of falling in love?"
"I think you fall in love every damn day with a different woman. And, on a good day, two women."
"Fuck off, Armstrong."
Trey stopped laughing. "Shit, you're actually pissed."
"Fuck yeah, I am. You're a relationship snob now that you have Georgie."
"A relationship snob?"
"Yeah. And the woman who just walked around the corner is going to make me one too. Now if I could just get her to go out with me."
Chapter Eight
Macy
I was more than a little annoyed at myself for keeping a watchful eye on the apartment building across the plaza. I assured myself that I wasn't waiting for Chase to emerge, but I knew that was a lie. When he'd asked me to have dinner with him, I had no choice except to turn him down, as hard as that was to do. The Trevor disaster was only three months old, and I just hadn't recovered enough. Even though the blame was all on Trevor's side, I still hadn't forgiven myself for being so ignorant and foolish. I was determined to make a go of things all on my own, with no one and, especially no man, to mess up my life. My business was moving along nicely. Slowly but surely, the sting of what had happened was healing. The last thing I needed was to walk into a hornet's nest again. Especially one that was so darn tempting.
The morning rush had finally slowed. I turned to the back of the kiosk to refresh the coffee pots when I heard someone approach the counter. "I'll be right with you," I called over my shoulder.
"No hurry."
How was it possible that I already knew the sound of his voice? I turned around. The man wore a business suit like no one else. I had no doubt it was an expensive suit, but his physique made it look spectacular.
"Hello," I pushed out an airy tone, but a few butterflies had crawled into my stomach. "What can I get you?"