How to Resist Prince Charming(53)

He nodded nervously. “As the daughter of one of my employees, yeah, I did. My friend, Greg, needs a translator for his business and I...I mentioned how well you spoke French.” Braxton blew out a breath. “Was that bad?”

Lenna continued to eye him with that freaky, blank look she had going.

He swallowed. Great, he’d messed up. Big time.

But then she let out a piercing shriek of excitement, and her face lit with pleasure. Flying at him, she opened her arms and flung herself against him, kissing and hugging him like crazy. It almost knocked him over backward and right onto his butt.

“I have an interview tomorrow at nine,” she told him between kisses. “And I have you to thank for it.”

Braxton was too relieved to immediately care about her job interview. He was more relieved she wasn’t mad at him. He caught her mouth and kissed her long and hard. Finally, he came up for air and wheezed, “That’s great. But don’t thank me. I just gave him a name.”

“But you gave him my name,” Lenna insisted. “Oh, Braxton, I can’t believe I have an interview for a career I’d like. Do you know how exciting it’d be to figure out all these different languages? This is, like, my dream job. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I knew when I found it, it’d feel right. And this feels so right.”

Yes, indeed it did, especially when she attacked him as soon he unlocked his front door.

Braxton barely got them inside before she pushed him against the wall and unzipped his jeans. He could only watch in amazement as she knelt before him and took him into her mouth.

Soaking in her pure, unadulterated joy as he fisted his hands in her hair and closed his eyes, Braxton’s mind screamed in red alert. But he ignored the warning signs; falling totally and irreversibly in love with Lenna Davenport.





CHAPTER 17




Tom sat, working at his desk Tuesday morning when Ben Hendricks strolled into his office.

“Well, it’s official,” Ben announced. “Boss Boy’s got himself a little girlfriend and not just a one-night stand like we thought after the hickey discovery.”

Tom lifted his face and frowned. “What?”

“When Farris got back from his trip, he went over his expenses with Tasha.” Ben wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And it seems our boy paid out-of-pocket for a third member at his business dinner. But...he only had one hotel room with one king-sized bed. So, whoever he took to France slept with him. In his one-bed hotel room.”

Tom rolled his eyes, not caring at all who Braxton Farris was or wasn’t dating. There were big rumors going around the office about how their young boss didn’t have much of a social life. He never talked about dating women...or men for that matter. But Tom just figured Farris to be a private person. And he was glad. He didn’t want to hear about the kid’s raunchy escapades anyway.

“Or,” he said to Ben, “maybe he met someone in France and invited them along for dinner?” He hoped Ben would leave him alone and mull that idea over.

But Ben pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “Au contraire,” he told Tom. “This is one billing receipt for the H?tel Duc de Sáint-Simon in Paris. Room service delivered to room 108,” he started to read. “Two glasses of water, one chicken cordon bleu, plus a Beef Burgundy with a side dish of sour cream. Then a bottle of their finest champagne. All of which, Farris paid for...out of pocket.”

Tom snagged the receipt from Ben’s hand and frowned down at that menu. It reminded him of his daughter. Lenna always ordered an extra side of sour cream. She ate the stuff with practically everything.

“So, he had someone eat in his room with him,” he grumbled, shoving the receipt back at Ben. “That doesn’t mean—”

“For breakfast the next morning,” Ben produced another receipt. “Two glasses of orange—”

But Tom lifted his hand to stop the man. “Okay! Okay,” he snapped. “The boy has himself a girlfriend. Who cares?”

Ben frowned. “Why aren’t you even a little curious?” he asked. “Everyone always talks about their families or who they’re dating. But this kid never, never, mentions a significant other. It’s like he doesn’t want us to know something. Which makes me wonder...what’s the big secret, huh?”

“This all may be an exciting mystery to you,” Tom said, lowering his head back to his work and lifting his hand to wave Ben from the room. “But I could honestly care less what Braxton Farris does on his off hours. Now, go gossip with someone else about it.”

Tom could feel Ben scowl at him for a minute. His friend grumbled about him being no fun as he slumped from the room. Tom shook his head over Ben’s fixation and returned his attention to work.



On the sixth night in the past two weeks that Tom had to stay late for work , he conceded that if anything, his young punk boss couldn’t be called a slacker. Farris sat at the head of their conference table, looking as alert and refreshed as he had at seven-thirty this morning when Tom had dragged his tired old ass into the office.

While Braxton scowled at the screen of his electronic tablet doo-hickey thing and asked, “Did someone check on the shipping fees for all four places on my list?” Tom felt like groaning, crawling under the table, and taking a fifteen—possibly twenty—hour nap.