Part 5 (1/2)
A sharp knock on the door forced her to cut off her words. She sighed at the interruption of what was obviously a carefully constructed and rehea.r.s.ed speech.
Her beautifully pursed lips turned upward when she looked to see Thompson approaching with a mug of coffee.
”I don't know if I've ever been more grateful.”
Both men watched her as she took a sip.
She closed her eyes momentarily. ”It's excellent.”
”It is?” Connor asked.
”You sure you don't need cream or sugar, ma'am?”
”It's exactly the way I like it.”
”That's what I'm talking about,” Thompson said, words almost sing-songy.
”Any possibility of stealing you away from Mr. Donovan? Name your price.”
”I'll keep that in mind.” Thompson's grin was sloppy, ridiculous. A former Special Forces bada.s.s should know better than to be fraternizing with a potential enemy.
Not that he should judge. Connor suspected that he had looked much the same the moment she'd walked through his office door.
”Anything else, sir?”
”Out,” Connor said.
The man was still grinning like an idiot when he left.
”You really like it?” Connor couldn't help but ask when they were alone again. ”You aren't just being polite?”
”About coffee? Never. Getting a cup like this ranks up there with receiving manna. Filtered water, no doubt. Freshly ground. Your man Thompson has elevated it to an art form of types. No doubt takes great pleasure in the ceremony of it.”
”All that from a cup of coffee?” And from his a.s.sistant? He'd hired a secret barista? Was there no end to the man's talents?
She inhaled the aroma. ”It has a nice flavor.” She licked her upper lip.
G.o.d help him.
”Caramelly, a hint of chocolate perhaps. A good acidity around the edges of my tongue. I understand some people lack appreciation of a strong brew. I take it you're one of them?”
He didn't answer.
”You could always switch to hot chocolate.”
Now his manhood was at stake. Connor told himself that Thompson had made her coffee weaker than usual, just for her. After all, she was a lady. ”Where were we?”
She put the still-steaming mug on a coaster. He noticed that her hand shook a little. Immediately she put it in her lap. Good move. In business, opponents looked for tells that gave away a person's thoughts or reactions. She'd betrayed her nerves and, realizing it, had taken steps to hide it.
This was no social call. ”You had a proposal?” he prompted before leaning back.
”My father can be very...”
He pressed his palms together and waited for her to find the right words.
”Committed to his ways.”
”That's polite.”
”I apologize for the way he treated you. Even if he hadn't wanted to consider your offer, his actions were inexcusable.” She took a breath. ”You told me last night to call if I had questions. I do. A number of them. I'm curious about the offer you took to him last night.”
”You asked him?”
”I understand he didn't consider it.”
”Regardless. It's off the table.”
”I understand that. I'm hoping we can find a way to work together.”
”Go on.”
”You obviously know of the challenges we-meaning BHI-are having.”
”Some,” he agreed. ”Since you aren't required to file public reports, the extent is nothing more than rumor and conjecture.”
”We have divisions that are doing well. Others are not.”
”And that brings you to your proposal?” Connor noticed she was twisting her hands together. The mug of coffee sat there, untouched and cooling. He waited. The only sounds were those of the air-conditioning's whisper and her rapid breaths. Whatever the woman had to say, it was costing her in terms of emotional energy.
”I know this is unexpected, ridiculous, outrageous...” She closed her eyes, then opened them again and locked her unblinking her gaze on him. ”We're not even on a first-name basis.”
”But?”
Her words had been jammed together, rushed, unpolished. While she'd been speaking with Thompson and with him, about the coffee, her tone had been light, not forced. Now, tension wove through her voice. Connor had no idea where she was going, but he sure as h.e.l.l expected it would be interesting, suspected he'd be willing to do anything she suggested, as long as she kept looking at him like that, as if he were hope, promise, threat and redemption all in one. f.u.c.king heady stuff.
After a short breath, she rushed on, ”Will you marry me?”
Chapter Three.
Of all the things he'd been expecting her to say, that wasn't it. Connor wasn't sure he'd ever been more stunned. He took great pride in being prepared for all eventualities. He thought in terms of flow charts. Each thought led to a different result. Since he enjoyed considering various possibilities, he was rarely caught off guard, and she'd managed it twice.
Silence hung in a whisper, an expectation.
Possible responses crowded his mind. But only one mattered. ”You have no idea what you're asking.”
”I'm sure you're right. It was forward of me.” She pushed back her chair and stood. She crossed to the window and stared out with her arms wrapped around herself. ”But I'm hoping you'll be interested enough to hear me out.”