‘OK, You know where I am if you think of anything later. And thank you all for being so supportive.’
Though after she’d left the team she found it hard to concentrate on her work. She just kept coming back to Brandon Stone and his offer to buy her out.
What really bothered her was that she couldn’t get the man himself out of her head. The way he’d looked standing up in the swimming pool, with the water barely reaching his ribs: his shoulders had been broad and his chest and biceps firm. He’d looked just as good in the restaurant, clothed in a formal suit, shirt and tie. Those grey eyes had seemed to see everything. And that beautiful mouth...
Oh, for pity’s sake.
She didn’t do relationships. Her parents had pretty much wrapped her up in cotton wool after her deafness had been diagnosed, and as a result she’d been too shy to join in with parties when she’d gone to university. Once she’d finished her studies, her focus had been on working in the family business.
But when Brandon Stone had accidentally-on-purpose bumped into her in the pool, her skin had actually tingled where his touched hers. And, even though she was pretty sure that he turned that megawatt smile on anyone with an X chromosome, she had to admit that she was attracted to him—to the last man she should date.
Was he really the playboy she suspected he was?
She knew he had a dossier on her, so she had no compunction about looking up details about him.
He’d started heading up the family firm three years ago. Something about the date jogged a memory; she checked on a news archive site, and there it was. Sam Stone killed in championship race.
Brandon hadn’t raced professionally since the crash. There had been no announcements about his retirement in the press; then again, there probably hadn’t needed to be. Sam’s death had clearly affected his younger brother badly. And the rest of his family, too, because Brandon’s father had had a heart attack a couple of weeks after Sam’s death—no doubt brought on by the stress of losing his oldest child. Poor man.
Angel continued to flick through the articles brought up by the search engine. Eric Stone—Brandon’s uncle—had sideswiped him a few times in the press. Then again, Brandon had walked into the top job with no real experience; Eric probably thought he was the one who should be running Stone’s and was making the point to anyone who’d listen.
Angel felt a twinge of sympathy for Brandon. Everyone at McKenzie’s had supported her when she’d taken over from her father. Brandon had barely had time to settle in before his father had been taken ill and he’d taken over the reins, and it wouldn’t be surprising if a few people resented him for it. She’d had the chance to get to know the business thoroughly before she’d taken over, whereas he’d had to hit the ground running. Despite what she’d thought earlier about his background not really qualifying him for the job, he’d done well in running the company, using the same concentration and focus on the business that he’d used to win races in his professional driving days. From the look of their published accounts, Stone’s was going from strength to strength. They certainly had enough money to buy her out.
The rest of the newspaper stories she found made her wince. Even allowing for press exaggeration, Brandon Stone seemed to be pictured with a different girl every couple of weeks. Most of them were supermodels and high-profile actresses, and none of the relationships seemed to last for more than three or four dates. His personal life was a complete disaster zone. He really wasn’t the kind of guy she should even consider dating. She should be sensible about this and stop thinking about him as anything else other than a business rival.
* * *
Brandon scrubbed his hair in the shower on Sunday morning after his run, hoping to scrub some common sense back into his head.
This was ridiculous.
Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Angel McKenzie and her violet eyes—and the smile that had made him practically want to sit up and beg? It had been three days since he’d met her, and he still kept wondering about her.
It threw him, because he’d never reacted to anyone like this before. Angel was nothing like the kind of women he normally dated: she was quiet and serious, and she probably didn’t even own a pair of high heels. He wasn’t even sure if she owned lipstick. Though he also had the feeling that, if they could put aside the family rivalry, he’d have a better conversation with her than he usually had with his girlfriends. She wouldn’t glaze over if he talked about cars and engineering.
Oh, for pity’s sake. Why was he even thinking like this? He didn’t want to date anyone seriously. He really wasn’t looking to settle down. Seeing the way that Maria, his sister-in-law, had fallen apart after Sam’s death had cured him of ever wanting to get involved seriously with anyone; even though he didn’t race now, he still didn’t want to put anyone in Maria’s position.
But he just couldn’t get Angel McKenzie out of his head.
Or the crazy idea of dating her...
And then he smiled as he dried himself. Maybe that was the answer. If he dated her, it would get her out of his system; plus he’d be able to charm her into doing what he wanted and she’d sell the business to him. It was a win-win scenario.
So how was he going to ask her out?
Sending her a bouquet of red roses would be way too obvious. Too flashy. Too corny. Besides, did she even like flowers? Some women hated cut flowers, preferring to see them grow rather than withering in a vase. None of that information was in his dossier.
He could ring her PA and talk her into setting up a meeting, though he was pretty sure that Angel had given her strict instructions to do nothing of the kind.
Or he could try a slightly riskier option. He was pretty sure that Angel McKenzie spent all her energies on her business; so there was a very good chance that she’d work through her lunch break and eat a sandwich at her desk.
If he supplied the sandwich, she couldn’t really refuse a lunch meeting with him on Monday, could she?
The more he thought about it all day, the more he liked the idea.
Gina’s dossier didn’t tell him whether Angel was vegetarian, hated fish or had any kind of food allergies. So at the supermarket on Monday morning he erred on the side of caution and bought good bread, good cheese, heritage tomatoes, a couple of deli salads and olives.
Though he had to be realistic: Angel could still say no and close the door in his face, so he needed a plan B to make sure she said yes. And there was one obvious thing. Something that, in her shoes, he wouldn’t be able to resist.
He flicked the switch to trigger his car’s voice-control audio system, connected it to his phone and called Gina as he drove home. ‘I’m not going to be in the office today,’ he said, ‘and I won’t be able to answer my phone, so can you text me if there’s anything I need to deal with?’
‘You’re taking a day’s holiday?’ She sounded surprised: fair enough. He didn’t take many days off, and he normally gave her a reasonable amount of notice.
‘This is work,’ he said. Of sorts.
‘And it involves a girl,’ Gina said dryly.
Yes, but not quite how she thought. And he could do without the lecture. ‘I’ll check in with you later,’ he said.
Back at his house, he collected a couple of sharp knives, cutlery, glasses and plates from the kitchen, dug out a bottle of sparkling water, put the lot into a picnic basket and then headed out to his garage. He backed one of his cars into the driveway and took a photograph of it, then put the picnic basket in the back. If Angel refused to have lunch with him or even talk to him, he was pretty sure that the photograph would change her mind.
* * *
Angel’s PA gave Brandon a rueful smile. ‘I’m afraid you don’t have an appointment, Mr Stone, and Ms McKenzie’s