The C.e.o.'S Unplanned Proposal. Karen Whittenburg Toller

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?”