How to Resist Prince Charming(2)

Standing across from him, Pat Foley shook his finger Braxton’s way. “Enough talk about that. I bet we’re scaring the kid here.”

The kid.

If only Braxton had a penny for every time they called him the kid, or boy, or sonny in the past month, he’d be a millionaire. Well…more of a millionaire than he already was. Behind his back, he knew he was called much worse. Boss Boy seemed to be the mildest but most popular handle. He refused to let it fester, though. He knew what he’d been signing on for when he’d stepped behind his father’s desk.

Well, sort of. It was still a shock to see how quickly they’d turned on him.

Brax treated the men to a tight smile. “Takes more than that to scare me.” He lifted his glass, only to find it nearly empty. Perfect.

“Just you wait your turn,” Charlie Fairbanks advised, beaming out an ornery grin as he jabbed Braxton in the ribs with a saggy, wrinkled elbow. “Then you’ll know exactly what we mean.”

“Sure.” He shot Charlie a look; not a frown, but something dry and annoyed enough to make the man’s smile drop flat.

Charlie’s face turned red, and he coughed into his hand. Their conversation crashed, exploded and floated off into an uncomfortable ball of silence.

Both Charlie and Pat shifted and snuck not-so-discreet glances toward the clock on the wall.

Braxton did as well, only to bite back a groan. It wasn’t even seven yet. He knew good and well these Christmas shindigs went on until the wee hours.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me,” he announced, backing away from the group. “I need to refresh my drink.”

His oh-so-respectful employees were in rare form tonight, trying to make him look as young and inexperienced as they assumed he was. Typically, they observed a little more discretion in person. But in casual party mode, soused and safe in numbers, their tongues wagged a lot looser. And Davenport, their rebel leader, hadn’t even arrived yet to stir up his usual trouble.

Braxton sidled up to the bar and ordered a Crown and coke. “Make it a double,” he pleaded, plopping onto the rotating stool before surveying the scene around him. Quite a few couples swayed to the lazy, slow tunes provided by the live band. But the only people around to dance with were employees or their dates, and neither option made an ideal partner. So, that killed half the fun he could’ve had.

He had briefly considered scrounging up his own date. But who knew what kind of gossip would spread about him if he’d walked in the door with a blonde bombshell on his arm. He’d probably go from Boss Boy to wild playboy, which would only give his dad a coronary, and he wanted to avoid that. The old man had enough on his plate already.

Braxton sipped his drink and idly watched the crowd for about the hundredth time in the past five minutes. He hoped he didn’t look as alone as he felt.

Earlier, he’d wandered toward the group of people who were his age. But that ended up being a dud. Anyone who was remotely as young as Braxton was so fresh and new to the company they had no rank yet. They were merely assistants, mailroom workers, and interns.

As soon as the high and mighty Boss Boy entered their circle, all conversation dropped flat.

It sounded like they’d been having an entertaining discussion too. As he approached, he saw one guy cupping his chest with both hands, obviously talking about female breasts. A fan of female breasts, Braxton neared them with interest.

But as soon as he’d called a greeting, all eyes went wide and every mouth snapped shut. Gazes fell to their drinks while only a few managed to mumble hello. Other than that...nothing.

Realizing he wasn’t welcome, Braxton thanked everyone for coming and moved along to the higher-up employees, where he’d found himself joining a discussion about retirement funds, then listening to a heated debate over what was the best liquid in which to soak false teeth.

Knowing more about false teeth than he ever cared to, he tossed back a good portion of his drink and blew out a long breath, hoping he could make it through the rest of the night. Not used to being the most unpopular guy in the crowd and knowing everyone was badmouthing him, Braxton sighed.

He was contemplating escape when he spotted her.

She was beautiful.

Stunning.

A complete vision.

And she was young...like him.

Who was she? Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Braxton didn’t know and, frankly, he didn’t care. All that mattered was finding a way to get inside her as soon as possible.

He hadn’t arrived with a blonde bombshell on his arm, but by God, he sure as hell wouldn’t mind leaving with one.

Dayum. She was gorgeous.

With a slender, tall frame that was somewhat willowy despite the healthy curve to her hips, she held herself with a graceful, poised stance that screamed dancer. He was too far away to tell whether she had a decent chest, but at this point, her cup size didn’t even matter.

Her dress was silver. Light reflected off it, making her sparkle as she stood in the doorway, peering curiously inside at the mingling crowd.

She’d pinned up her light hair, making her neck appear long and incredibly elegant. A stray blond tendril had come undone, or maybe she’d deliberately left it down. It teased the side of her throat and fluttered in a provocative manner, leading Braxton to believe she'd left it down for that intended purpose. To drive him mad.

Her cheeks looked longer than they did round. From this distance, he couldn’t see much, but he could tell her mouth was tipped in a smile.