“Does he look as good in person as he did in that newspaper picture?” GiGi asked as she slid back into the nook with her refilled glass. “That hardhat he was wearing made it impossible to tell some things—like without it, is he bald and lumpy-headed?”
“No…He has hair,” Jani said, instantly picturing Gideon Thatcher in her mind’s eye. It was something that had been happening incessantly since she’d left him on the street the evening before, dragging her into alarmingly involuntary daydreams…
“He has very nice hair,” she went on. “Actually, that picture of him in the paper didn’t do him justice. And neither did the ones of him on his website. He has great hair—kind of a sandy-brown—”
“Is it neat and clean or does he look like he needs a haircut the way Reggie always did?”
“It’s neat and clean. But not so neat that he looks stuffy or severe.”
“Clean-shaven or scruffy?”
“Clean-shaven.” Leaving that sharply chiseled jawline and that sexy off-center dent in his chin clearly visible. Visible, and such a perfect match to the rest of his bone structure. His face was just rugged enough that he couldn’t be considered a pretty-boy—which is what GiGi had called Reggie.
“Is he a big man? He looked like a big man in that picture. Bigger than whoever that was he was shaking hands with,” GiGi commented.
“He is a big man. Tall. With broad shoulders.” Im-pressively broad shoulders…
“Stocky or lean?”
“Lean. He’s not fat in any way.”
“Scrawny like Reggie?”
“No, definitely not scrawny, either. I think he was all muscle under the overcoat he was wearing.” All muscle and masculinity…
“What about his eyes? What color are his eyes?”
“The most beautiful green you’ve ever seen—a shimmering sort of sea-green…”
And then it struck Jani that these questions were out of the ordinary and she realized that her grandmother had set a trap for her. A trap she’d fallen into by rhapsodizing somewhat about Gideon Thatcher’s appearance. And now GiGi was smiling knowingly.
“Not that I care how he looks,” Jani added in an attempt to do damage control. “He could be a troll and it wouldn’t matter. He’s just the person I need to deal with to do what we need to do. Male, female, good-looking, not good-looking, it doesn’t make any difference.”
But her grandmother was staring at her from beneath raised eyebrows and still smiling.
In spite of what Jani read in the elderly woman’s expression, GiGi said, “No, of course it doesn’t make any difference that he looks even better in person than in his pictures. I was just curious.”
“He hates us, GiGi,” Jani repeated, emphasizing each word for effect to warn the older woman away from whatever she was thinking.
“And that’s what we’re going to try to make up for,” GiGi concluded.
“His secretary called this morning to arrange for me to meet him for coffee after work tonight. What am I supposed to do if he just gives me a flat no on our proposal and won’t have anything to do with me?”
“He wouldn’t need a whole cup of coffee to do that, he could have said that on the phone. Or had his secretary tell you. If he wants to have coffee, I think there’s hope.”
But what exactly was her grandmother hoping for? Jani wondered.
“I suppose,” she agreed. “Although he could just want a check from us and to never set eyes on me again—what then?”
GiGi laughed. “Persuade him otherwise,” she suggested.
Jani rolled her eyes. “Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
But that was all she said on the subject. She had to get back to work and, since they were finished eating, she stood to clear the table.
As she did she was thinking about that meeting with Gideon Thatcher tonight, and calculating if she could run by her house to change her clothes before going back to the office.
Because when she’d gotten dressed this morning she hadn’t known she would end the day seeing him again.
Now that she knew she would be, she was wishing she’d worn her better butt-hugging slacks.
And the new blouse with the collar that stood high around the column of her neck but didn’t quite meet in front until the first button just barely above her cleavage.
It wasn’t a work outfit—in fact she never wore anything to work that even hinted at cleavage.
But when it came to Gideon Thatcher she thought she could use all the help she could get.
Just for the cause.
Anything to aid the cause.
Not because she cared how she looked for him…
Chapter Three
Gideon Thatcher was late and Jani’s feet hurt.
Not only had she gone home and changed her clothes after having lunch with her grandmother, she’d also changed her shoes. Three-inch heels with toes as pointy as arrows. Like the deep purple blouse with the slit of a plunging neckline, they weren’t work shoes. But they looked fabulous so she’d opted to suffer. And luckily the coffee shop Gideon Thatcher had chosen had its own parking lot, so there was no real hike from her car.
Only he wasn’t there yet when she arrived—on time at six o’clock—so she was waiting for him at the entrance.
On her feet.
For the past twenty-five minutes.
She was beginning to think he wasn’t coming and wondering what she was going to do if he didn’t when a jazzy little sports car pulled into the lot, parked next to her car on the passenger side, and out of it stepped the man himself.
Was keeping her waiting a power play? Just another indication that he was going to be difficult?
It didn’t matter. She could handle that. It was part of what she did for work.
Handling the way he looked was something else, though. She couldn’t keep her eyes from being riveted to him as he headed for the coffee shop.
He was wearing a dark gray suit that was clearly tailor-made for him, accentuating his broad shoulders, his narrow waist and hips, his long, powerful legs.
There was no shadow of beard to mar his sexy, sculpted face. His charcoal-colored tie was still knotted tight against his dove-gray shirt collar. And if a power play was what he had in mind, he was definitely dressed for it because as he came into the coffee shop it was power that he exuded.
But he surprised her by greeting her with an apology that bore not even a hint of arrogance or satisfaction.
“I’m sorry I’m late. I had a meeting with a Lakeview city councilwoman and she was in no hurry to leave.”
Maybe the councilwoman was just enjoying the view….
Because Jani still was. In spite of herself.
“No problem,” she said, appreciating that his tardiness hadn’t been on purpose. But she also noted that his overall attitude continued to be cool and aloof. And not at all friendly.
“Coffees are on the latecomer,” he announced with no particular warmth, moving to the counter to order. “Or whatever you want…”
Jani ordered a decaf latte. While Gideon ordered a