Kate Hardy

His Shy Cinderella


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to you.’

      ‘There’s nothing to say.’

      He rather thought there was. ‘Hear me out?’

      ‘We really have nothing to talk about, Mr Stone,’ she repeated.

      ‘I think we do, and your PA won’t book a meeting with me.’

      ‘So you stalked me?’

      Put like that, it sounded bad. He spread his hands. ‘Short of pitching up on your doorstep and refusing to budge, how else was I going to get you to speak to me other than by interrupting your morning workout?’

      ‘My company isn’t for sale. That isn’t going to change.’

      ‘That’s not what I want to talk about.’

      She frowned. ‘Then why do you want to talk to me?’

      ‘Have breakfast with me, and I’ll tell you.’

      She shook her head. ‘I don’t have time.’

      ‘Lunch, then. Or dinner. Or breakfast tomorrow morning.’ Brandon didn’t usually have to work this hard with women, and it unsettled him slightly.

      She folded her arms. ‘You’re persistent.’

      ‘Persistence is a business asset,’ he said. ‘Have breakfast with me, Ms McKenzie. You have to eat before work, surely?’

      ‘I...’

      ‘Let’s just have breakfast and a chat.’ He summoned up his most charming smile. ‘No strings.’

      She said nothing while she thought about it; Brandon, sure that she was going to refuse, was planning his next argument to convince her when she said, ‘All right. Breakfast and a chat. No strings.’

      That was the first hurdle over. Good. He could work with this. ‘Thank you. See you in the restaurant in—what, half an hour?’

      ‘Fifteen minutes,’ she corrected, and hauled herself out of the pool.

      Brandon did the same, then showered and changed into his business suit and was sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant exactly fourteen minutes later.

      One minute after that, Angel walked in, wearing a business suit, and he was glad that he’d second-guessed her and worn formal clothing rather than jeans. Though he also noticed that her hair was still wet and pulled back in a ponytail, her shoes were flat and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. The women in his life would never have shown up for anything without perfect hair, high heels and full make-up; then again, they would also have made him wait for two hours while they finished getting ready. Angel McKenzie clearly valued time over her personal appearance, and he found that refreshing.

      The other thing he noticed was that she was wearing a hearing aid in her left ear.

      That hadn’t been in his dossier. He was surprised that Gina had missed it, but it felt too awkward and intrusive to ask Angel about it.

      Then she knocked him the tiniest bit off kilter by being the one to bring it up.

      ‘Do you mind if we swap places? It’s a bit noisy in here and it’s easier for me to lip-read you if your face is in the light.’

      ‘No problem,’ he said, standing up immediately. ‘And I’ll ask if we can move tables to a quieter one.’

      She gestured to the floor. ‘It’s wooden floor, so it’s going to be noisy wherever we sit. Carpet dampens speech as well as footsteps.’

      And there was a group of businessmen nearby; they were laughing heartily enough to drown out a conversation on the other side of the room. ‘Or we could change the venue to my room, which really will be quieter,’ Brandon said, ‘but I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.’ Though in other circumstances, he thought, I probably would, because she has the most amazing eyes.

      He was shocked to realise how much he was attracted to Angel McKenzie. She was meant to be his business rival, from a family that was his own family’s sworn enemy. He wasn’t supposed to be attracted to her. Particularly as she was about six inches shorter and way less glamorous than the women he usually dated. She really wasn’t his type.

      ‘The restaurant’s fine,’ she said, and changed places with him. ‘So what did you want to talk about? If it’s your offer to buy McKenzie’s, then it’s going to be rather a short and pointless conversation, because the company isn’t for sale.’

      Before he could answer, the waitress came over. ‘May I take your order?’

      ‘Thank you.’ Angel smiled at the waitress and ordered coffee, granola, fruit and yoghurt.

      Brandon hadn’t been expecting that smile, either.

      It lit up her face, turning her from average to pretty; in all the photographs he’d seen, Angel had been serious and unsmiling.

      And how weird was it that he wanted to be the one to make her smile like that?

      Worse than that, focusing on her mouth had made him wonder what it would be like to kiss her. How crazy was that? He was supposed to be talking to her about business, not fantasising about her. She wasn’t even his type.

      He shook himself and glanced quickly through the menu.

      ‘Sir?’ the waitress asked.

      ‘Coffee, please, and eggs Florentine on wholemeal toast—but without the hollandaise sauce, please.’

      ‘Of course, sir.’

      ‘I would’ve had you pegged as a full English man,’ Angel said when the waitress had gone.

      ‘Load up on fatty food and junk, and you’re going to feel like a dog’s breakfast by the end of a race,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Food’s fuel. If you want to work effectively, you eat effectively. Lean protein, complex carbs, plenty of fruit and veg, and no added sugar.’

      She inclined her head. ‘Fair point.’

      He needed to get this back on the rails. ‘So. As I was saying, this discussion isn’t about buying the company.’

      She waited to let him explain more.

      So that was her tactic in business. Say little and let the other party talk themselves into a hole. OK. He’d draw her out. ‘I wanted to talk about research and development.’

      She frowned. ‘What about it?’

      ‘I’m looking for someone to head up my R and D department.’ He paused. ‘I was considering headhunting you.’

      She blinked. ‘Yesterday you wanted to buy my company.’

      He still did.

      ‘And today you’re offering me a job?’

      ‘Yes.’

      She looked wary. ‘Why?’

      ‘I heard you’re a good designer. A first-class degree in engineering, followed by an MA in automotive design.’

      ‘So you have been stalking me.’

      ‘Doing research prior to headhunting you,’ he corrected. ‘You’re a difficult woman to pin down, Ms McKenzie.’ And he noticed that she still hadn’t suggested that he used her first name. She was clearly keeping as many barriers between them as possible.

      ‘Thank you for the job offer, Mr Stone,’ she said. ‘I’m flattered. But I rather like my current job.’ She waited a beat to ram the point home. ‘Running the company my grandfather started.’

      ‘Together with my grandfather,’ he pointed out.

      ‘Who then dissolved the partnership and took all the equipment with him. McKenzie’s has absolutely nothing to do with Barnaby Stone.’

      ‘Not right now.’ He held her gaze. ‘But it could do.’

      ‘I’m