Cassie's Grand Plan. Emmie Dark

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       Finally Melanie recovered enough to speak. “Sorry, but my name’s Melanie. Cassie is—”

       “I’m Cassidy Hartman.” Cassie drew herself up straight and held out her hand. She knew her face was red and not just from the coughing. This was Graham’s consultant, and he’d mistaken Melanie for her. Who could blame him? She was filthy from crawling through the recently arrived stock trying to do a rough estimate on quantities. She’d barely slept so she knew her eyes were baggy and her hair was in its usual messy ponytail. Whereas Melanie—well, she was Melanie. Cool, crisp and utterly perfect.

       The mistake was understandable, but no less embarrassing. And, much as she didn’t want to admit it, it hurt. Part Two of her recently drawn up Plan-with-a-capital-P was all about making sure this kind of misunderstanding didn’t happen, but she had to get Part One bedded down first—and that meant making her position at Country Style rock solid. She just hadn’t considered that the report she’d spent her nights and weekends researching and writing would prompt her boss to call in professional analysts instead of simply granting her the CEO position as she’d recommended.

       The smarmy-but-gorgeous Ronan turned to Cassie and gave a slight bow, extending his hand to grasp hers. His eyes flashed with a moment of regret at his misstep, but he covered it quickly. “My apologies, ma’am.” He cocked his head to one side as she stifled another cough. “I admire your new caffeine delivery system, but perhaps it still needs some work?”

       Cassie had been about to apologize for her appearance, explain about the short-delivered order, but his condescending expression stopped her in her tracks. She wanted more than anything to slap that grin off his face and send him packing back to his big glass office in America. Instead, she forced herself to smile, as much to stop herself insulting him out loud as anything else.

       She shook his hand and released it quickly when a jolt ran through her body, as if she were holding hands with the devil.

       “Can I get you a coffee, Mr....uh,” Melanie stuttered.

       Cassie looked over at Melanie and was surprised to find her unflappable assistant looking at a loss.

       He hesitated just a split second before answering smoothly. “Mr. McGuire,” he reminded her, “but please, call me Ronan. And I’d love a coffee. Black, no sugar—I’m sweet enough,” he added with a wink and Cassie was staggered by Melanie’s response. She gave a shy giggle and a telltale blush marched across her face. Melanie was the target of flirting from just about every man she met. This was the first time Cassie had ever seen it work.

       She guessed any woman would fall weak at the knees faced with this perfect specimen of the male sex. Objectively, Cassie could see why. He wasn’t her type, though. Too polished. Too worldly. Too good-looking. Too overwhelming. It’d be too easy to lose yourself—lose control—with someone like him. It wasn’t something she would ever allow to happen.

       Besides which, it was pointless even thinking those kinds of thoughts. He was here to assess her performance—at work, not in the bedroom. Thank goodness. At least at work Cassie knew what she was doing.

       Well, she’d thought she did up until Graham had called for this review.

       Her stomach twisted into ever-tighter knots.

       “Sure, Ronan.” Melanie lowered her voice to say his name, as if it were sacred. Her eyes didn’t leave the man’s face as she asked, “Cassie, can I get you another one?”

       Cassie could only nod, even as the coffee she’d already consumed that morning curdled in her belly. She figured she was going to need every bit of help she could muster to get through this day and more caffeine was a good start.

       The fragile balloon of self-confidence she’d tried to pump up last night was rapidly deflating. In all the scenarios she’d pictured, she’d been imagining herself answering to a bow tie–wearing nerd. She honestly had been expecting some gray-haired, button-down bore. Not the kind of man who’d make most women think of beds instead of budgets. Of sex instead of stock levels.

       And she’d expected to have more time to prepare. Not get caught out in the middle of a delivery blunder, dusty and hot and annoyed. She swallowed again, resisting her tickly throat that still urged her to cough.

       “I’ll be back in a moment.” Melanie seemed to have recovered from her little swoon and was back to her normal efficient self. “I’ve set up the conference room for you both. All the documents you requested are in there, Cassie, and I even found an adaptor so you can plug your laptop in, too, Ronan.” Again, that sexy tone when she said his name.

       “Why, thank you, Melanie.”

       No. Oh, God. Had he winked again?

       When he turned back to Cassie, his face was all business. Cassie refused to feel disappointed. “After you, ma’am.”

       Without another word, Cassie led him into the warehouse and through the side doorway that led into the office area and the conference room.

       “Conference room” was a grand title for the space that they used for staff meetings and big client pitches, but it was the most presentable part of the building. It had also allowed Cassie to exercise her passion for interior design—a passion that had played no small part in her success. Predicting trends and designing merchandising schemes were her favorite parts of the job.

       Cassie had furnished the space as if it were a provincial dining room; instead of the typical imposing boardroom table surrounded by black leather swivel chairs, she’d brought in a large, whitewashed-timber dining table, plush dining chairs and a kitchen sideboard for storage. Audiovisual equipment was stored away in a large wooden trunk and dresser, while a kitchenette gave the impression of a family space ready to prepare an evening meal. The view of the loading dock from the window was the only thing that broke the illusion that the visitor had stepped into a country home.

       It was one of Cassie’s favorite hideaways and she managed to take her first deep breath of the morning as she walked in. A measure of calm settled over her jangled nerves. Whether it was the fact that she had designed it herself, or that it was just the kind of room she dreamed of having in her own home one day, she didn’t know. She just knew that on those frequent late nights at work, she often left her office and came in here to soak up the comfort the room offered. Then she could pretend that she was finishing up her work at home, her family tucked up safe in bed, a lovely, soft, gentle man offering her a nightcap.

       Soft and gentle was what she wanted, not sculpted and swoon worthy, she reminded herself as she took another sideways glance at Ronan McGuire. He was looking at her, an openly appraising expression on his face. Cassie swallowed hard. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he liked what he saw.

       She quickly looked away. “We’re all set up in here,” she said needlessly, gesturing to the table.

       “Interesting choice of furnishings, ma’am,” he said as he pulled out a chair and opened his briefcase. A hint of Southern twang to his accent stopped his “ma’am” from being smarmy—but only just. Cassie wanted to say something witty and cutting, but reminded herself of what was at risk. Besides, witty and cutting—especially in front of a hot guy who had apparently just been checking her out—had never been her forte.

       Cassie sucked in another deep breath before answering. “It’s used for commercial clients and supplier meetings,” she said crisply. “It allows us to show off the Country Style СКАЧАТЬ